The Resurrection of Boromir
by StarofElendil
Summary: The elvencraft takes Boromir back to Lothlorien, where he is healed by Galadriel and goes back to Gondor. No Marysues. Faramir, Eowyn and Aragorn also figure prominently in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

I know, I know. It's been almost a year since anything happened with this fic. My beta edited all five chapters and I was too lazy to work on them until about 4 or 5 months ago. Since then I've been on a whirlwind. Ten chapters have been written, and the first five chapters have been polished into something magical. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, just a crazy book-loving teenager.

My genius of a beta, Erestor(who has done brilliant work on polishing this fic), has pointed out that my timing has made my story AU, it's so off. I didn't feel like I could fix the timing without changing the story more than I wanted to.

* * *

"You have slept long, Son of the Steward, and suffered much."

These words slowly penetrated the comfortable, velvety darkness in Boromir's mind. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Disoriented, he opened his eyes. As he became more aware, the figure standing by the foot of his bed gradually resolved itself and became the Lady Galadriel. Sudden recognition dawned in his eyes.

Memories came in a rush that sent him reeling. The White Lady, the hobbits –"FRODO!" He sat bolt upright and gasped at the unexpected pain that shot through him. She immediately silenced him by raising her hand.

"Not another word, Master Boromir. I would not have you undo our handiwork."

His heart still pounding, he queried,

"Why am I in Lothlorien?"

Death was not yet meant to be your fate, son of Denethor. The boats we gave you do not sink and come back to Lorien when no longer in use. It carried you up the Anduin, till it came to rest gently in the fields of Lorien by night. There were you found, and then brought here. We worked long over you, and you passed from darkness into light. But beyond this I know little." She said, an unspoken request for more information in her tone.

Boromir leaned back into the pillows and tried to remember. It came back in pieces. "We had been attacked by Orcs and Uruk-hai…bearing the white hand of…S-Saruman, I believe Aragorn said. We were…" His brow furrowed. Where were they at the time? "There was water, and waternoise, a waterfall, of course! We were at Rauros when we were ambushed...There was…Frodo asked for a rest to decide his course." Here he averted his eyes. Never would he forget the rash, dishonorable thing he had done. Galadriel saw this and said "That is not of which we speak. Put such thoughts behind you; they are of no use here. You may find that what happened there may have been the choice of fate." He nodded and continued, recognizing the order to continue veiled in her words. "That was when the attack came…We split. Frodo and I parted and I went back to camp and panic took hold upon news of Frodo's disappearance. The hobbits started searching for him and Aragorn told me to watch over them. Aragorn went after Frodo and I know not where Legolas and Gimli went. I found Merry and Pippin but then they came!" Straight-backed and stern, Boromir's eyes clouded; he was seeing afar off another time and place, and he began to breathe quickly. "I fought, but they had arrows…" His left hand crept up to the bandage on his chest and his right clutched the coverlet as though searching for his sword. Galadriel, alarmed at his emotion, spoke. "Peace, Boromir! That time is past! Speak no further, and come back to the present!" She cried, banishing the darkness. With a start, Boromir came back to the present. He breathed deeply and studied her, waiting for her words. "Rest, Boromir. We will plan our course after you wake." He nodded and dropped into the pillows, exhausted, his head throbbing with the intensity of his emotions. "Be at peace, Boromir." The last thing he heard before his eyes closed was Galadriel's blessing, echoing that of Aragorn. "Strange," he thought. "From life to death, now death to life…"

Long years of training had taken its toll on Boromir, so when the door opened he snapped awake, forgetting there was no cause for alarm. He relaxed, however, when he saw the respectful face of Meldo, the elderly elf who had first attended him when the Fellowship had gone through Lothlorien. He walked on silent elven feet, setting a tray in his hands on a table. Stepping to the curtain, he opened it slightly, being careful not to draw it too far and hurt Boromir's still-sensitive eyes. Meldo dragged a chair to face Boromir.

"How do you fare?" he began quietly.

"Ayuh, it might be too early to tell. A bit groggy, I think, and hot." murmured Boromir, feeling a stitch in his chest in remembrance of the pain that had coursed through him when hit by the arrows at Amon Hen. Meldo nodded and removed one of the comforters. "I bound your wounds when first you came in the boat, and know the extent of your wounds. You took…three arrows, two of which only just escaped hitting vital organs. The other did hit an organ and that is wherein the danger lies. You need much rest and careful watching and care." Boromir's face fell. "How long?" He asked, unsure of what to expect. "A month at least, unless the strength of Numenor runs in your veins." said Meldo apologetically. Boromir sighed and bowed his head, all fight in him gone. "I will abide by your rules, and do as you say. But as soon as I can I need to leave. There is too much at stake." Meldo nodded and began feeding him. Boromir was too exhausted to protest at the disgrace of being fed like a child; already his eyes were closing in spite of himself. Three small spoonfuls into the bowl, he waved away the spoon, suddenly pale. "Enough, enough. No more."

"Easy, easy." said Meldo, supporting Boromir's head as it threatened to drop. "Can you take any more?"

"No. My stomach forbids it, and the room rolls." he said shortly. "Thank you for your services."

"Think nothing of it." said Meldo, lowering Boromir's head onto the bed and pulling up the coverlet to his chin. "Sleep well." Sleep had already claimed the wounded warrior. Meldo closed the curtain and left the room, closing the door after him.

……

Mmmm, sleep felt good! For a moment, Boromir was still in Gondor, still not fully awake, thinking of what needed to be done that day. Until he stretched. Then his wounds made themselves felt, and everything came back in a rush. A flood of emotions began to make him nervous. What would be done today? Reflection only gave him a headache, and he realized that his fate was not currently in his hands but in those of the elves. He breathed deeply and took in his surroundings, but before he could, a big orange tabby cat jumped in from the open window in the flet. Boromir smiled, put at ease somewhat by a familiar animal. Leaping into the bed, the cat curled up beside him and went to sleep, a comforting warmth by his side. The cat's loud purring vibrated through its body and reminded Boromir of a soft animal like this one; it had been Faramir's once upon a time but the cat found the soft spot in Boromir's heart and stuck to him like a burr….Lost in pleasant reverie, the big man suddenly realized he had been staring at a cat long gone to sleep and had fallen into a light doze himself. He cursed at the unfamiliar weakness flooding his bones, but it was bearable this time.

Succeeding in sitting up, he took in his surroundings. He was lying in a large white flet with soft sunlight flooding in through the open windows, opened no doubt by the diligence of Meldo. To his right was a night standwith a glass of water and some bread, evidently meant for him, should he want it. His eye traveled further until it reached a chair with extra blankets and pillows on it. On the wall facing him was a table with his belongings and the remains of his clothes, mended and washed. Then there was the fireplace, and the door beside it. Otherwise, the room was bare. He frowned, though. How long had he lain here?

As if on cue, someone knocked at the door. "Enter," called Boromir. Galadriel made her way into the room. She smiled. "Ah! You wake. And Idril found you."

"The cat?" That the Elvenqueen had an easy side to her dark personality surprised Boromir. "Aye. She was a little kitten when first she came here. But I daresay that isn't what you want to know about."

"No," he said, uncomfortable with Galadriel's friendliness. What did she plan? He felt wary, then berated himself for thinking ill of his hostess. But still, he stood on shaky ground, he felt.

"We left off after Amon Hen. Now I will tell you what the Mirror of Galadriel has seen. It showed me Frodo and Sam had left for Mordor together. Aragorn vanquished the Uruk that had shot you but others had taken Merry and Pippin on a hard march to Isengard." Boromir broke in, his eyes wild with grief. "I failed them? The little hobbits?"

"They are not dead, Boromir. They'll be kept alive because it is thought that they have the ring. Foolish yrch! But hope remains because Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, the Three Hunters, have gone after them. More than that I do not know.

But Boromir had paid no heed. The news that the hobbits were captured had crushed his spirit. Tears gathered unheeded in his eyes; one left its silvery trace down his cheek.

"Boromir? Boromir, heed me." Galadriel tried to comfort him. "Things happen that are beyond our grasp." Out of respect, he paid heed to her. Trying to couch her words in terms that would speak to him, she said, "When a battle is lost the generals mourn but go on planning to regain lost ground. You must do the same! And they are not dead, and it is not likely with the Three Hunters on their trail." Boromir looked savagely at her, his last shreds of decorum gone.

"Why do you care! What difference does it make to you! My place is with those three, not here in a bed of ease!"

"Boromir!" she spoke sharply over his furious onslaught. "I care because...because I have known the call of the Ring."

That stopped Boromir short. Were elves capable of falling? They seemed so untouchable, Galadriel most of all. _She_ had known the call?

"You regained your honor, and with that are counted among the noblest of men today.

"That's…er…thank you."

Boromir felt utterly tongue-tied. There was silence in the room until Galadriel queried,

"What do you plan to do?"

Still at a loss, Boromir marshaled his mind into order. Ought he to go to the aid of Frodo and Sam, to make up for what he had done? But that would bring him into close contact with the Ring, far too close for comfort. No, that was a road he wouldn't take. All he needed was a useless weapon muttering to him.

Another thought hit him. Rohan would need aid! Boromir and the Royal family of Rohan had been close. They would need aid, for Rohan was ripe for plucking, with Theoden in his state. At least, Boromir reasoned, Theodred will be a strong, worthy ally.

"I must leave immediately for Gondor, I think, to send men to Rohan. They are in need of aid. The allegiance has long been forgotten, but it is time for it to be renewed." He thought of Aragorn and his companions with regret, but realized that they were well able to care for one another. Aragorn would be an able leader for Legolas with his accurate bow and Gimli with his sturdy axe. "_Yes,_" he thought. "_I shall see them again._"

"You will not be able to leave your bed for a fortnight, and will be unable to leave Lothlorien for another fortnight, lest you fall along the way. Not only that, but your father and brother must believe you are dead.The steward will not take his grief well."

He stared at her, unnervedby the implications of her words. Denethor had never been particularly fond of Faramir. At times he had even been cruel. Boromir chafed. What would he do to Faramir? Reading his thoughts, Galadriel answered.

"Do not worry about Faramir. It is now time for him to prove his worth to his father, and Denethor will realize that Faramir is worthy of his love ere long."

Even to Galadriel was the end obscured, but strangely, Boromir found himself accepting his fate…

Galadriel smiled at the sleeping form and left the room.

……

Contrary to Galadriel's expectations, ten days saw Boromir walking gingerly, Meldo standing alongside, and another ten saw him taking long walks or rides with Meldo through the Golden Wood, gaining strength every day. At the end of the month, Boromir prepared to leave. Meeting with him, Galadriel told him, "The simplest way would be to follow the Anduin through the Falls of Rauros and Amon Hen until you reach Minas Tirith, but how you are to enter the White City, I am unsure, and no doubt you will run into Orcs and Uruk-Hai patrolling the river and the entrance to the city."

Boromir shook his head.

"I must get through regardless of whatever obstacles land in my way….In fact, I would like to leave at dawn, if that is permissible." Boromir's wariness of the White Lady had faded with the passing of days and was now nonexistent. He now valued the Elvenqueen's advice.

"You will be supplied with a boat and provisions." she assured him.

"Thank you, my Lady." he replied, satisfied.

……

Celeborn, Galadriel, Meldo and Boromir gathered at the tributary of the Anduin at the exit of Lorien.Celeborn stood by a boat, similar to the ones given to the Fellowship when they had set off from Lorien, moored on the sand. "In the bags are lembas, dried fruit and meat, and flagons of water. It should be plenty to get you to Minas Tirith, but once you get to the Falls of Rauros you will have to disembark and go on foot, though. You should make the Falls in a week, and Minas Tirith in another week on foot. These are my gifts to you. May they serve you well, and may the Valar protect you."

"I have yet one more gift to give you, Boromir." Galadriel said, handing him a greenish-grey cloak with a brooch of Lorien, very like the one he already wore. He looked at her. What would another cloak do?

"I wove this for myself long ago, when I desired solitude. This cloak will make you and anything that carries you, such as a boat or horse, invisible. If you wear it while in the boat, you and the boat will be invisible. But beware, the cloak only covers your form. You will be able to be felt; an orc can put his hand _on _you but not _through_ you; it is in this manner you may be detected."

He thanked her for the gift, knowing instinctively that it would be of greatest help in his journey.

Meldo then came forward and handed a leaf-wrapped package to him.

My lordBoromir," he said. "This is my parting gift to you; herbs of healing. You told me you had learned some simple healing skills at school, so I made up this packagein hopes that it might aid you."

"Meldo, it is a kingly gift. I thank you most deeply for it."

Meldo nodded his head and smiled. "It has been an honor to care for you, milord."

"Boromir. Just Boromir. Will you come visit me if we succeed? I would much enjoy showing you Gondor."

"Perhaps." Said Meldo.

He continued, "I thank you for all your care. I am forever indebted to you."

"On your way, young master. Repay us by doing your utmost to protect Middle Earth. Goodbye, Boromir, and be cautious."

Celeborn raised his hand in farewell.

Boromir pushed the boat into the water and vaulted in. He was going to Minas Tirith, to Gondor. He was going home!

* * *

Review, please!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, just a crazy book-loving teenager.

Thanks to my lovely reviewers!

Chapter 2

On the dawn of the fourth day, Boromir woke to the sound of voices. The wind carried them to him, but he could not distinguish between friend and foe. Mooring the boat under a tree that provided a convenient hiding place, he crept forward, following the voices. As he came closer, the voices resolved themselves into separate tones. Suddenly he stumbled upon a clearing in the forest, nearly giving himself away to the four orcs seated on logs. One of them was speaking.

"Yeah, but we've been here three days, and we haven't seen anything." He said.

"No, but we haven't finished patrolling, and we're not going back untilwe do!" shouted one sitting alongside him.

"But there's nothing here! No meat, no fish, no birds! Just berries!" whined the first orc. "I hate berries! They taste like mud!"

The third orc on the next log broke in, hoarse and menacing. "Enough! We will do as told!"

The others quieted instantaneously.

"The four of us willgo on patrol when the other five get back." Boromir started. Nine Orcs, possibly Uruk-Hai? He didn't stand a chance against so many. Finally, he decided to back away, annoyed that he could not fight. He crept back to the inlet where he had hidden the boat and pushed off, trusting in Galadriel's cloak. But he had been heard.

"What was that?" asked one of the Orcs.

"It's nothing. You're scared, and hearing things." concluded the gruff one.

The third one sighed. "Go check, Gorakh."

Grumbling, Gorakh went, but found nothing. By this time Boromir was several yards away, safe in the river. Was it him they sensed or was it something else? He would have to increase his vigilance and keep a steady watch.

On the seventh day, Boromir reached Amon Hen and the Falls of Rauros. Here…he had tried to take the Ring from Frodo. And it was here that he had fallen while trying to atone for his misdeed. There were still rotting orc-carcasses and blood. The smell was so strong his eyes started streaming even as they darkened in memory of that day that seemed so long ago.

He gathered all the carcasses and left them burning, his blood boiling in rage and sorrowing in turns. Were it not for his betrayal he would have been able to keep the oath he had sworn to protect Frodo. He felt as black as the sky Sauron had covered entirely with cloud to protect his Orc-filth. He sighed and turned to the boat. It was time to leave it. He used his first Lorien cloak to create a sort of bag full of food and the package of herbs given him by Meldo. Twenty days after leaving Lorien, Boromir had one final climb before he was in sight of Minas Tirith. Again, he heard noise carried on the wind. Halfway into the climb the noise turned into the clang and clash of battle and the roaring of Orcs and goblins. Steeling himself for battle, he clambered onto the crest of the hill. In spite of himself, the sight that met his eyes left him in shock. The White City was at war! All around his beloved Minas Tirith were Gondorians fighting hordes of orcs, uruk-hai, and renegade men. The grand white walls of the city were stained with blood, though, he saw with approval, it had not yet fallen. He needed to get into Minas Tirith quickly. There was a tunnel he and Faramir had discovered when exploring the forest but it led into a grove of trees far closer to the city than Boromir was. From his angle, it would be impossible to get to the grove without being seen. He would have to skirt the forest just behind the cover of the trees for some miles before he reached the tunnel. He set off running, his blood pounding in his veins and lending him speed.

He reached the grove just as the sun began to set. Finding the tunnel entrance, he stopped a moment to see how the battle fared. Movement on the edge of the field caught his eye, and he watched exhilarated as Theoden King flanked by Eomer and several eored arrived. From the river came Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. His heart rejoiced even as he gave a quick blow with his sword to the lock, and he flew down the tunnel, all weariness forgotten as Boromir, heir to the Stewardship of Gondor, ran to the aid of his people.

Lifting the grate cautiously, he found himself in the damp, musty cellars of the palace. Hoisting himself out, he set off running to the upper levels. Harsher and angrier than ever, the sounds of battle met his ears and he unsheathed his sword. Opening the doors, he was already met by Orcs. In his element, Boromir began hacking and thrusting his way through them. He noted grimly that no more poured through the gates. No doubt they were hard pressed by Aragorn and the Rohirrim. Those inside, however, provided plenty of sport for Boromir. The familiar battle lust coursed through his veins, and he allowed the rage in him to boil over and give him more strength. These foul beasts would never feel a need to care for people, to provide for them, to protect them, and therefore, they killed, and enjoyed themselves. Anger at the plight of his people sent Boromir's sword flashing into battle, dealing death where it went. Wherever he fought the cry rang out "Boromir! Boromir for Gondor!" He gave hope to the people as he marshaled them into order and led charge after charge further and further into the foray. Soon they fought their way to the very gates and the few Orcs left were running for their miserable lives. They were promptly taken care of by those outside the gates. The battle was over. He stood by the gates, grieved at what he saw. Few were left standing. There was Aragorn, and following him were the dead! This was really too much. It seemed as though their king was holding council with Aragorn. Before his eyes they seemed to dissolve and blow away as dust in the wind. Legolas, Gimli, and Gan—Gandalf? All semblance of control left Boromir and his jaw dropped. He fell…didn't he? Eventually he realized his posture wasn't exactly befitting Gondor's finest. Eomer ran to a body on the field, shouting unintelligibly and rocking a body he cradled in his arms. Boromir realized with a start that it was Lady Eowyn, his sister. Reminded of Faramir, Boromir turned back into the castle to find him. No one took notice of him in the bustle. Already there were Gondorians smudged with blood and filth gathering and separating the bodies. Suddenly, he heard a shout, and saw Caladir, an old childhood friend, run toward him.

"Boromir! You are alive?" he spluttered. "We thought you dead!"

"Not yet, old friend, not yet. But quickly! Where is Faramir?"

Caladir's eyes clouded. "Faramir?" he said.

"Yes, where is he?"

"He is in the Houses of Healing. But, Boromir, he is very close to death."

But Boromir had already started running to the Houses of Healing. That Faramir had been wounded sent Boromir reeling.

When he got there, he grabbed the first person he found, a grizzled old man doing errands. "Faramir, where is Faramir's room?"

"Lord Boromir?" He asked, staggered.

"His room, ai, his room!"

He pointed down the hall to a door where the herb-master had left from moments before. His heart pounding, Boromir took a deep breath, and entered in. His eye was immediately drawn to the gaunt figure of Faramir under the covers. He took a moment to wash his bloodied hands before approaching the bed.

"Ai, Faramir!" whispered Boromir, laying his hand on his forehead. Faramir moaned. "You're burning up! My brother, what has happened?" Boromir searched the room and found what he was looking for: a basin with some cool scented water and a cloth. Dipping the cloth into the water, Boromir wiped his brother's forehead with a gentle hand, his eyes studying the bandage wrapped around Faramir's chest. Out of the top and bottom of it poked tendrils of burned flesh, and crimson blood had blossomed onto the white bandage. Faramir lay unresponsive, already looking like a corpse wrapped in a shroud. A sigh escaped Boromir's lips, and he rubbed his head wearily. When he had last seen Faramir he had been his usual strong quiet self. He had spoken encouragingly to Boromir when he had left, telling him of a fine unveiling of the dream and peace again in Gondor and all Middle-earth when its hero did not need to go off haring after the meaning to some dream. Now here his little brother lay, a shadow of his former self, and there was nothing Boromir could do to take his brother's burden upon himself. Boromir knelt at his brother's side and wept, despair filling his heart. As he did, a hand descended upon his shoulder. Aragorn looked down kindly upon Boromir. Neither said a word as Boromir stood aside to make room for his king, hoping against hope that he would be able to do something. "Watch with me!" he ordered Boromir, "And do not fear! There is still hope!" Aragorn knelt beside Boromir before Faramir's bed and put one hand on Faramir's brow and with the other took Boromir's hand. "When the kingsfoil comes, squeeze my hand. Do no more! It may be distracting and that would be fatal!" With that, Aragorn's eyes sank shut. Boromir watched anxiously as Aragorn's face became drawn with weariness. Aragorn called, ere and again, for Faramir, and each time it came more faintly, as though he journeyed, himself, in the strange vales where Faramir walked in dread and despair.

Boromir's heart was pounding. Aragorn's face was gray and he was nearly falling onto the bed when a young boy came running into the room. "It is kingsfoil, Sir, as you asked before, but not fresh, I fear. It must have been culled two weeks ago at the least. I hope it will serve, Sir?" The boy burst into tears, looking at Faramir. Aragorn seemed pleased, having snapped out of his trance when Boromir squeezed his hand when the boy started speaking. "It will serve. The worst is now over. Stay and be comforted!" He said. Boromir was confused. Unless he was mistaken, kingsfoil was a weed, and had no healing properties. Had Aragorn confused it with something else? He watched as Aragorn took two leaves from the bowl and breathed on them, crushing them as he did so. The very air seemed to tingle and sparkle with life and joy and freshness. It reminded Boromir of kings, and far away lands, different places not known to humankind. This, he thought, would be the air of Numenor. Aragorn signaled for some bowls of steaming water and cast the leaves into them. All hearts were lightened at the lovely fragrance that arose from the bowls. It was like a memory of dewy mornings, full of sun, in a world of everlasting spring. Aragorn stood up, and seemed as one refreshed. He smiled, a smile so genuine and joyful that it brought an answering smile to Boromir's face, and hope besides. Suddenly Faramir stirred. His eyes lifted open, and he smiled and looked deeply at Aragorn who was bent over him.

"My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?" asked Faramir.

"Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!" said Aragorn. "You are weary. Rest awhile, and take food, and be ready when I return."

"I will, lord," said Faramir. "For who would lie idle when the king has returned?"

"Farewell then for a while!" said Aragorn. "I must go to others who need me." He nodded at Boromir and left. Gandalf stopped a moment. "Well done, Boromir. Very well done indeed!" He smiled and followed Aragorn.

Tears of joy and awe glittered in Boromir's eyes as he turned to the figure on the bed.

"Faramir?" queried Boromir softly.

Drifting into a healing sleep, Faramir heard the well-loved voice and rushed back to consciousness. He forced his eyes open and found Boromir gazing at him, an expression of concern covering his rugged features. Faramir stared. "Boromir?" he whispered.

"I am here."

"You…what… we… the boat… your horn?" said Faramir vaguely, hoping Boromir would understand. He did.

"You thought I died? Very nearly. But I was taken to the Lady of the Golden Wood, Faramir, Galadriel herself, and she healed me. I also went to Rivendell home of Elrond, and met other elves. I am really very ashamed of my dislike of them; it was thoroughly undeserved."

Faramir smiled, happy for the change in his brother, but too tired for words. Noticing this, Boromir took charge.

"But enough words. I will tell you more later. Sleep now."

Faramir closed his eyes, and Boromir stayed in the room till his brother's breathing stilled and became even, and he slept. Boromir slipped out of the room to scout for information and to find Aragorn and the fellowship…or what remained of it.

……

Boromir was striding through the corridors to get outside to find Aragorn when he came across Beregond, a man whom he had trained with, walking through.

"Ah, Beregond!" he began.

"My lord! You are looking considerably well, for a dead man!"

"No, it takes more than an orc arrow to get me down!"

"That I can see!"

"Can you tell me where I might find my father?"

The horror on Beregond's face worried Boromir.

"Beregond, what is it? Where is he?"

"Boromir, he's dead!"

"No… How? When? You jest!"

"No jest, my lord! He lost his mind when Faramir came back wounded, and despaired. He tried to burn himself and Faramir, but Pippin and Mithrandir stopped him, though Faramir was burned in some places. The furs the Steward wore…" Beregond paused, unsure of how to proceed. Boromir finished the sentence. "The furs caught fire, and my father is dead."

"Yes." Beregond said. Boromir was devastated. Horrified! He gaped in shock. Was this what the Ring was capable of? Twisting a strong man's mind in that way? Now he understood Frodo's trouble. Hang it all!

"Are many others fallen?"

"King Theoden fell. Lady Eowyn and the Halfling Pippin are lying in these houses. The dead are still being counted."

"Blast!" he said.

"My lord, Aragorn sent me to find you. The captains are to hold a council at once. Mithrandir and my lords Imrahil, Eomer, and Aragorn will be there."

"Where?"

"At Aragorn's tents."

"Thank you."

Gandalf, Aragorn, Eomer, Imrahil, and the sons of Elrond took council in the tents of Aragorn.

'My lords!' began Gandalf, 'listen to the wor-'

Someone slipped into the tent. "Forgive me for being late, but- "

Eomer and Imrahil jumped up. "BOROMIR," they shouted.

Elladan and Elrohir looked up, knowing Boromir only through the reports they had heard of him. Gandalf and Aragorn smiled.

Boromir grinned. Imrahil quickly regained his composure.

"Boromir?"

"Uncle," answered Boromir cordially.

"Do you know of your father?"

"Yes." he said quietly.

Aragorn broke in.

"Imrahil has been acting as lord of the city in the absence of you and Faramir.

Boromir jerked. In all the commotion, he had not realized that he was now Steward of Gondor! Immediately he felt a burden settle on his shoulders. Not only did he have to care for Faramir and the Fellowship, but the whole city as well. Perhaps…

"With his agreement, I would like it to remain that way, at least for the present."

Imrahil nodded as Boromir concluded, "It will allow me to do what I think best."

The meeting continued.At the end, Gandalf stated that they must draw all attention to themselves, and away from Frodo and Sam, and give them a chance to succeed in their mission, even if it meant death for all of them. Aragorn concluded.

"Let us accept the counsels of Gandalf, whose unwavering strength and devotion to our cause has not led us astray. We are now at the crossroads of the journey. To take the wrong road will mean utter destruction. Nonetheless, I do not claim to command any man. Let each chose as he will, and keep his honor."

All stood firm in their unwavering devotion to the King-to-be. All agreed to the course described by Aragorn and Gandalf.

"To our death or his!" was the final thought in each man's mind as he rose and went to the door. "For the freedom of Middle-earth!"

There! Chapter 2. Please leave a review!

Up next, Boromir's reunion with Legolas, Gimli, and the Hobbits.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dedicated to Pipkin Sweetgrass (here's where the hobbits and Boromir reunite.)

* * *

After each had gone his way, Aragorn walked over to Boromir.

"What will you do now?"

"I hope to join you in battle, if I may." Boromir said.

A fleeting expression crossed Aragorn's face. Relief, dismay, indifference, Boromir was unsure.

Boromir knew he had let the others down. Unsure of Aragorn's opinion of him, he asked, "Would you permit it?"

Aragorn smiled briefly. "I should be honored to fight alongside you, Boromir. Your valor cannot be denied, and I will admit that your survival eases my heart." he said.

Boromir nodded, rejoicing in Aragorn's acceptance. "Now, I will go find Merry and Pippin, Legolas and Gimli, and visit with them and Faramir."

"You have much to discuss," said Aragorn."Send my greetings to them. Merry, and probably Pippin, Legolas, and Gimli are in the room beyond that of Faramir. But do not tell Faramir of Denethor's death."

"Of course."

Boromir made his way to Merry's room. As Aragorn supposed, the remainder of the fellowship was in his room. Their reactions were much the same as the reactions of the council; all were surprised beyond belief at Boromir's return except for Legolas, who merely smiled and welcomed him.

Pippin ran smack dab into Boromir. "Whoo Boromir!!"

"Hello Pippin!" he said, hugging the hobbit. "It's been awhile." He said, beaming.

"That's putting it mildly." called Merry from where he sat up in his bed.

"Oh, my friends, I am so glad to see you safe, but Merry, whatever happened to you? Are you wounded?"

"Boromir, I would suppose that nearly dying would have sharpened your wits, not dulled them. Of course I was wounded, nitwit, why else would I be lying abed?" he said, teasing the man unmercifully. Boromir tousled his hair.

"Come now, lad, what really happened to you? I am dying of curiosity. You looked thoroughly dead." Gimli said when the mirth had ceased.

"The boat sailed back to Lothlorien with me in it. Galadriel and an elf named Meldo took care of me and nursed me until I could make the journey.As soon as I was able, I left for Minas Tirith,and, well, here I am."

"That's it?" retorted Pippin quizzically. "You certainly haven't been very busy."

"Not very busy? That's like saying you're not very cheeky. What have you done that you can laugh at me?"

Suddenly sober, Pippin said, "I haven't done much yet, but Merry killed a Nazgul."

"A Nazgul?" gasped Boromir.

"Yes! And we both met the Ents!" chirped Merry, reluctant to draw attention to himself..

"I heard. Lord Celeborn told me. And what of you? I am heartened to see you survived Helm's Deep." He turned to Legolas and Gimli.

"After Helm's Deep we left to Isengard, for Gandalf wanted to speak to Saruman and give him a final chance to live. He refused, and we made for Gondor after imprisoning him in Isengard. It is now guarded by the Ents."

"That was well-done." Boromir said.

Silence filled the room. Boromir took a deep breath and began again, soberly.

"I want to, um, apologize to you, Legolas and Gimli, for the result of my actions that day at Amon Hen. I am thoroughly ashamed of myself," he concluded, his eyes downcast and his face crimson. Legolas shook his head. "It is done, friend, and has worked to the best."

Gimli concurred. "The only thing I didn't like was the running. But," he paused, looking furtively at the elf, who had moved to stand at the window. "It did me good," he whispered. Boromir swallowed back a smile as he saw that the rivalry between the two was resolving into a budding friendship. "So a hearty welcome back to you! It seems that the same luck that keeps Aragorn alive works for you as well."

Boromir smiled, grateful for his friends' forgiveness.

"Thank you for your kind words. I will leave you now; I must speak with Faramir."

"Wait!" cried Pippin, a puzzled expression on his face. "What actions?"

Boromir's face fell. They did not yet know what he had done! Probably between their capture and all that has transpired since, it had been forgotten.Hang it all! Breathing deeply, Boromir composed himself and tried to marshal his thoughts into order. He bit his lip nervously, staring at the floor.

"Pippin, I-I tried to take the Ring from Frodo." Boromir said.

Pippin and Merry grew wide-eyed with astonishment."Why, Boromir?" Pippin asked. "Why did you take it?"

Merry nodded in acquiescence. "You tried to take the Ring? But you were told, like all of us, what it would do."

Boromir nodded, his eyes averted from the hobbits in his overwhelming shame. "I could- that is to say, I thought- no, I did not think." answered Boromir. "The truth of the matter is, I thought, really and truly, that it could aid Gondor. Now I know that it cannot, but that knowledge was dearly bought."

Pippin nodded sadly. "You know about the Steward."

"Yes,"

"Pippin," Legolas said, "the Ring plays on one's mind that way. It makes one think of what it could do. The Ring is inherently evil, and anything done with it turns to ash. It was made to dominate Middle-earth, and that is what it does."

"Rather well, you might admit. Anyone who gets it immediately thinks about what they hecould achieve by using it."

Gimli's words broke the silence that had settled like a mist on the group. Boromir smiled sadly. Stooping, he took Pippinby the shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"This I swear to you, Peregrin Took, on my word as a man of Gondor. I will never attempt to take the Ring from anyone again, and I will do my best in aiding to destroy it. This I, Boromir son of Denethor, do swear on my honor as a Gondorian." Mindful of the courtesies, Pippin said shyly,

"And this oath I, Peregrin son of Paladin, Hobbit of the Shire, do accept."

Boromir smiled, and Pippin grabbed him in a fierce hug.

"Many thanks, my friend," Boromir said, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He rose from his knee, suddenly realizing he was tired. And _hungry_. Strange. Only he would think of food at a time like this, he concluded. And perhaps maybe the Hobbits. He shook his head, dismayed that he would think of trivialities in spite of himself. Time for _that_ later, he told himself.

"And now it is essential that I speak to Faramir," he said. "I will hope to see you again." he said.

"Say hello to Faramir. He's really an amazing man, just like you, though it's hard to realize you're brothers. He seems a lot older than you." interjected Pippin.

"Er, thank you. I only wish my father was aware of his worth, but I daresay it was he who makes my brother seem older than I."

"I think he did recognize it, before he, you know, passed on." said Pippin.

Boromir nodded. "See you later," he said.

Legolas, Gimli, and Merry nodded in farewell.

Faramir woke up, and the events of the day before slowly pierced through the fog in his mind. The King had returned! He rejoiced at the awesome event, though he realized apprehensively that there would be no way to show Aragorn what he could and would do for him. Aragorn would see him in a weakened state for a long while to come, yet another of the wounded to care for without being cared for in return. Hopefully it would not affect his opinion of him.

Faramir turned onto his side. Was Osgiliath saved? He could not remember. When had he fallen? The last thing he remembered was slitting some Orc's throat.

Then he remembered; Boromir had survived after all! Surely that was a dream?… His eyes began to close. Drifting in and out of sleep, it was some time before he realized that Boromir stood silently over him.

"Hello, brother," Faramir said.

After a pause, Boromir said, "I was wondering if you were awake."

Faramir grinned in response. "Help me prop myself up."

Boromir obliged.

"Now, tell me the news." said Faramir, trying to act lighthearted.

"It's not very good," Boromir said.

Abandoning his charade, Faramir asked, "What is it? Is Osgiliath…"

"Osgiliath fell, but that is not what I am worried about. I will be leaving for Mordor," Boromir said,heedful of Aragorn's advice not to tell his brother about Denethor. It has been decided that we must keep Sauron's eye away from the Ringbearer, so as many as can be gathered will journey there to fight. It will be perhaps the last battle fought in Middle-earth by the forces of good.Many will die, and perhaps we will not win."

Faramir leaned back onto the pillows. "You know I met Frodo and Sam, and Gollum too?" he said.

"Gollum?" Boromir was surprised.

Faramir grimaced. "A slinking, sly, disgusting, and thoroughly pitiful creature. Frodo has my sympathy, and Sam is a stalwart companion. He told me that the Ring had…" He cast his eyes down, not wanting to embarrass Boromir.

"I am glad he told you of my weakness, for I am not sure how I would have."

"Were it not for being told I probably would have taken it to Gondor."

"No, I think not. You are strong, brother, in ways that I do not understand." said Boromir softly.

"I…There is a difference in book-strength and physical strength, Boromir." Faramir said.

"You have proved yourself a tower in both. It is an honor to name you brother."

Faramir turned cherry-red. "Can we please convene this meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society?"

Boromir grinned as Faramir changed the subject."I am sorry I cannot go along," he said.

"I'm not! No one doubts your valor, Faramir, but there is no way Aragorn or Ioreth will let you out of bed for a long while yet." Boromir said.

"Boromir, stop mothering! I'm an invalid, for Eru's sake! I can't even get out of bed on my own accord!"

"Within a fortnight, I think, you may." came Aragorn's voice from the doorway.

Boromir whisked around to face the voice, startled. Recognizing Aragorn, he sheathed the sword he had whipped out of his belt, a habit he had formed after joining the Fellowship.

"Do not be alarmed." Aragorn said quietly.

Sharply aware that his King was in the room and he was lying in bed in a nightshirt and unaware to make any sort of obeisance to his King, Faramir crimsoned. By habit, he expected to hear some scathing words about his behavior, about his injury, about anything. He sternly told himself that not all rulers felt the same way as his father did. How he hoped this one was different!

Seeming to sense his discomfort, Aragorn smiled and reassured him. "I am honored to be of assistance to you. How do you fare now?"

"Better, thanks to you, my lord."

Aragorn frowned.

"Please, do not yet call me lord. I am, as of now, Chieftain of the Rangers. Very few know of my true identity, though rumors are flying fast and hard." He said wryly.

"Of course."

"If I may ask," continued Aragorn, "how did you know who I am?"

Faramir looked away to the window, his eyes far-seeing and distant. It seemed to Boromir that he saw far into the past, beyond to the days of Numenor.

"Visions. Dreams. I have seen you often in my sleep." he said quietly, unsure of how Aragorn would react to his words.Somehow, he felt as if Aragorn was a man who understood that there was more to life than soldiery, unlike Denethor.

Aragorn was intrigued. He sat down beside the bed and attempted to encourage the shy young man. Faramir was visibly nervous, his hands clenching and unclenching underneath the covers.

"Is there any pain?"

"Some."

"Let me check your bandages."

Faramir flushed, but did not demur.Boromir supported him as Aragorn unwound the bandages from his thin chest and examined him.

"You'll live," Aragorn said with a smile. "There is no infection, though the woundis inflamed." Reaching for some salve, he rubbed the fragrant stuff into the angry red mark, apologizing when Faramir hissed in agony. After re-wrapping him he lowered the exhausted young man back down on the pillows.

"I am sorry for wearing you out. You must be tired. I shall leave you now, but please, attempt to sleep. If I may, I will check on you before we leave." His eyes flickered to Boromir, who nodded.

"Get some sleep too, if you can." Aragorn told him.

"Likewise." answered Boromir.

Aragorn smiled and turned through the door, making for his room.

Faramir's eyes remained fixed on the point where Aragorn's retreating back could no longer be seen.

"He is a great man." Faramir said.

Boromir nodded in agreement."In battle, he has the strength of ten men. He is too fierce to be looked upon then, surrounded by Orcs bothdead and alive. He is a brilliant strategist, a magnificent archer, an unrivalled tracker, and a gentle healer, yet, I have heard him singing long-forgotten lays to the hobbits. He will make a legendary king. I shall be the first to swear fealty to him." declared Boromir. "Faramir, you didn't see him on the battlefield yesterday. He led the Accursed from the mountain! He went through the Paths of the Dead with Gimli and Legolas and the dead followed him and did his bidding! Then afterwards he held their oath fulfilled and they blew away on the wind!"

"Yes." Faramir whispered,his eyes drooping. "_The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings doom approaches. The Dead awaken; for the hour is come for the oathbreakers: at the Stone of Erech they shall stand again and hear there a horn in the hills ringing. Who's shall the horn be? Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people? The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North shall he come, need shall drive him: he shall pass the Door to the Paths of the Dead."_ Boromir looked at him, not understanding.

"The words of Malbeth the Seer," Faramir said, answering the unspoken query with his eyes closed.

Boromir smiled and fell silent, as he saw Faramir was halfway to sleep. Soon his own eyes closed, and he slipped into a peaceful, restful sleep.

* * *

Up next, the day before everyone leaves for Mordor. Lots of things happen! 


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, merely a crazy book-loving teenager.

* * *

Boromir awoke with a start. How long had he slept? With some trepidation, he made his way to the window and pulled the curtains aside.

Daybreak. The sun was only now rising over the mountains, and its blossoming light touched the world with flame. There was much to do today.

Faramir stirred, waking.

"Is something amiss?" he asked Boromir's back.

Turning to him, Boromir answered, "Is it not I who should be asking that question?"

"Perhaps." Faramir said.

Boromir hid a smile as he asked, "Very well then, how do you fare?"

"I feel like a man at the end of his days. If I so much as twitch, my bones ache." he complained wryly.

Boromir frowned this time. He knew his brother could handle much pain, and for him to complain meant he _was_ in pain, rather a lot. He recalled the time they had been out on patrol together when a sudden storm came upon them before they could reach shelter. Both had been drenched through. Hot grog and bed had put him to rights, but the next day Faramir woke with a cold in his chest that had him wheezing and coughing. It didn't take a healer to tell Boromir that he needed a warm bed, fire, and medicine right away. Riding out with him, Boromir had made the day's journey back to Minas Tirith, but by that time Faramir was unconscious and burning with fever. His face was pale and drawn. Healers despaired of him lasting the night but he still lived in the morning. Visiting him, Faramir said only that a day or two would put him together properly. Not a word of complaint. On their next patrol together, Boromir asked him about it. Faramir had replied, "Why kick against the goads? There was nothing I could do about it."

Shaking the fog from his mind, Boromir asked, "Shall I call for a healer?"

"No, there are others no doubt more in need of help than I. Let me be, I'll live."

Nodding, Boromir seated himself beside the bed and began telling of yesterday's events. "Yesterday a council meeting decided what to do next. Gandalf and Aragorn have decided that the best way to aid Frodo and Sam would be to draw the Necromancer's attention away from them."

"How?" asked Faramir.

"By leading his gaze to us by going to Mordor."

Faramir's eyes widened. "Do you have enough men?" he asked.

"All told, six thousand foot and one thousand horse."

Faramir winced. "So few? Against Mordor? Nothing short of folly!"

"There is nothing else we can do!" Boromir rose to his feet. "Unless Frodo and Sam succeed, we must either defeat Sauron or _be_ defeated by him. No, we will go, and we will--we _must_--succeed! Not as long as any of the men are standing will the free lands of Middle-earth fall! Faramir, I have already failed the Fellowship once, I will not do so again."

Boromir's head was unbowed his arms out flung, and his eyes blazed defiance. Faramir saw in Boromir's stance his determination to conquer Sauron. He saw in his stance the reason why all of Gondor loved the man. He saw in his stance…his older brother, the man his father had loved. He sank back into the pillows and murmured, "Go, brother, and may Eru protect you and grant you victory."

"We leave tomorrow morning," he said, acknowledging Faramir's compliance. "Aragorn, Imrahil, and Eomer are to lead various contingentsthrough different roads to Mordor. I will be riding with Aragorn and the Dunedain, his kinsfolk, as well as Gandalf, A Dwarf, and three Elves: the two sons of Elrond and Legolas Thranduilion, prince of Mirkwood; and one of the halflings, Peregrin Took, a Knight of Gondor.

"Ah, yes, Pippin. I met him. He wears my uniform."

"Aye, that's right." answered Boromir, bemused by the abrupt change in conversation. "His size could not be found. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all."

"Good! And now I must see to preparations. I will come tolunch with you at midday."

"All right."

With that, Boromir left the room. He would have to polish his mail, sharpen his sword, see to his horse, pack his necessities, and attend to a hundred other things that claimed his attention. Perhaps he could get Legolas and Gimli to join them at noon. Since they were young Faramir had loved the elves. And perhaps Aragorn would visit Faramir again. And maybe he could get some _breakfast_...

* * *

Please read and review! They are much appreciated! Thanks! 


	5. Chapter 5

An update! First off, it's not from Boromir's point of view, it's from Faramir's, but I rather like it. Second, I've put a flashback in it. I haven't done that before, so tell me if it's ok. I don't plan on doing it more than once, but just in case. PLEASE tell me if the changes are all right.

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, just a crazy book-loving teenager.

"How I long to go with Boromir!" Faramir thought. "There is nothing for me here…"

It had only been a few minutes since Boromir had left him, but Faramir was already taking counsel with himself, and coming off the worse for it.

"No doubt Father will come soon." He did not know whether to dread or look forward to his coming, unaware that Denethor was dead.

"Is the 'manner of my return' worthy of acknowledgment? I doubt it."

He was tired, tired of this entire struggle. He had realized long ago that it made life easier when he didn't kick against what could not be changed, but that theory didn't work for everything. The love of his father and the destruction of Sauron were two things he would always battle for, but he was so tired! "It is indeed a sad time when only sons who are warriors have their father's love." he thought. "Alas for the days of peace! Alas for my days in the library of Gondor!"

He recalled those blissful days, when a scholar could be a scholar and nothing else! How he had loved delving into the old records and learning the forgotten languages! A brief smile surfaced in memory of a time long past. The lanky, gangly young boy of once upon a time had been buried deep, only to surface occasionally in the slender, seasoned warrior of today.

"Only occasionally..." he thought wearily, and fell asleep...

Faramir awoke suddenly to find the sky darkening. Surprised at having slept so late, he slowly sat up and took note of his surroundings. He felt...different, somehow. Not so dispirited. The despair of the morning, he realized, was gone, and a steady hope kindled in its stead. His eyes relit with their long-forgotten fire.

"Hope!" he marveled. "Where once was none, hope unlooked for has returned!

Eru, I ought to get up!"

He tried, but could hardly swing his legs to the side of the bed without losing his breath completely. Just then Boromir strode through the door, followed by two men: Aragorn and Imrahil, Faramir's uncle.

"Good evening," Faramir said, feeling rather small under the scrutiny of the three tall men.

"And to you. You are looking well!" commented Aragorn.

"I feel well." Faramir answered, surprised that he spoke so easily with the king.

Aragorn was amazed. In place of the fevered, badly wounded, shy young man he had left the day before there was a well-spoken man with, yes, with optimism in his eyes. Aragorn felt an answering smile spread across his face.

"You have found hope." said Aragorn.

"Aye. I long for the day I can leave this bed and go about the city."

"Surely, Faramir, you do not intend to go with us to Mordor?" Imrahil said.

"No. I will still be unable to hold my sword then. I will stay here and do what is needed."

"For you to get well is what is needed!But I do not doubt you will do what you think best." At that Boromir crossed over to his customary chair by the bedside and sat down. The other men followed suit and sat on chairs provided by the Warden.

A healer appeared at the door.

"If you please, my lords, are you are hungry?" she asked with a curtsey. "There is stew and bread."

Boromir nodded. "For three, please."

"Certainly." With another curtsey, she sped away, but soon returned with three heavily-laden trays. After setting them before each of the men, she dropped a final curtsey and went on her way.

For a while, the room resounded with the soundof wooden spoons scraping against wooden bowls.

Faramir, who was not quite ready for stew yet, had been provided with a bowl of rich broth and a hunk of bread. He ate little.

"I came to you at midday, and you were sleeping deeply," Boromir said. "I did not wish to wake you."

Faramir nodded. "I slept well. Thank you."

"No nightmares?" asked Aragorn, his healing instincts resurfacing.

"Not this time."

"Good!" Aragorn said."Athelas does wonders."

Faramir's eyes sparked. Athelas! The herb of Numenor!

"In my studies I have learned of the healing propensities of athelas, though never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it would be used in my time, much less on me! The stuff of legend!" cried Faramir.

"These are days of legend, Faramir. Considering that you are alive after the Black Breath, arrows, battles aplenty, a depression over your father _and _thatyou nearly crossed the line between death and life, you are something of a legend yourself." Aragorn said.

"Yes. You speak aright. About days of legend, I mean." answered Faramir queerly, remembering his thoughts earlier in the day. Strange! In those days at the library he had longed for days of legend. How often had he daydreamed of saving some fair lady from foul beast! Now that those days were here, he realized, he longed for the satisfying life of a scholar, important to none save himself. Feeling the familiar longing washing over him, he wondered if, given the choice, he would choose between living as a scholar or as a warrior?...

"Faramir? Faramir!" Boromir said.

"Oh! Yes! What? I'm here."

"You withdrew into yourself." Aragorn said.

"Hmph!" grumbled Boromir. "You have not seen him with his nose in a book. Then nothing short of war will tear him from it!"

Imrahil laughed as well, remembering that his nephew had indeed been famous for his love of his books.

Only Aragorn saw the longing in Faramir's eyes. He did not laugh, but said, "Boromir told me that Gandalf says you would have made a great scholar, had it not been for the war."

"Yes. I am very honored." A smile cracked the lines creasing his face. He had always treasured the memories of days spent with Gandalf...

**FLASHBACK**

32 years ago at the libraries of Gondor...

"Now where in the name of all that's wonderful did I put that confounded book?" chunnered Gandalf to himself as he strode down the rows of bookshelves in the huge, dimly lit halls.

"This place badly needs an organizing. In no other library will I find a priceless old book next to an oily cookbook!" he mused as he pulled the book from its place.

"No, that's not it. Where in the name of Eru did I put it?" He strode to the next area only to stop abruptly, hearing noises. Moving silently, he looked around the edge of the shelf.

In a corner, in a chair, a young boy sat with his legs dangling. Before him was a desk with a large book open, facing him. He was trying to read, doing his best to get his tongue around the words, sounding them out awkwardly as they came.

"The Lords of the Va-lar are se-ven; and the Val-Val-the Val-ee-er, the Qu-Qu-Queens of the Vao-lar, are seven also, thoug-thouh-though, though they have other names in the sp-eech of the Elves in M-Middle-earth, and their names a-mong Men are man-manifold. The names of the Lords in due or-der are: Man-wee, Ul-mo, Ay-oo-lee, Or-o-mee-"

"The Valaquenta, young Faramir, already?"

"Hee? Oh! Mifrandir!" Little brown curls bounced as the young boy pushed himself off the chair and ran into Gandalf's outstretched arms. "I didn't know you was coming!"

"Were coming." he corrected absently. "Yes, I supposedyou did not, since I did not see you waiting for me at the gates as usual."

"I was in here reading." A frown creased his face. "Or at least I was trying to."

Gandalf picked up Faramir and made his way to the chair, not minding spending time with the boy.

"Did you already get through the Ainulindale by yourself?" Gandalf asked.

Faramir nodded proudly, but said with a pout, "But, Mithrandir, I din't unnerstand it!" he said, his emphasis making him slur his words.

"Let us go back to the beginning, shall we," Mithrandir said, "and I will teach you."

"Yes, please, Mithrandir!"

"Very well then." He turned to the front of the book and began.

"There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Iluvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought,-"

"Are you a Ainur, Mifrandir?" piped a small voice.

"In a way. I am the type of Ainu called a Maia. I'm a wizard."

'Whatsa wizzard?"

"Well, a wizard..."

And they both settled in for an evening of reading, talking, and asking and answering questions. After two hours, though, it was finally time for Faramir to go to bed. By this time, Gandalf was smilingwith Faramir. He picked the yawning, sleepy child up.

"You will make a great scholar one day, young Faramir. I am very pleased with you."

The young child smiled at the grey old wizard.

"Thank you, Mifrandir. I love being with you. Almost as much as I love being with Boromir."

The wizard grinned.

"I thank you, little friend." he whispered, so as not to wake the already dozing boy. Gandalf patted the boy's back and said, "Now, let's take you to bed."

**END FLASHBACK**

PLEASE review, and tell me if this chapter is ok. If you like it, I'll probably do more chapters from Faramir's pov. What did you think of the flashback, and was Faramir in keeping with the book? The book Faramir and Gandalf read together was the _Silmarillion,_ which is where I got the Valar and Eru quotes from. This was a fun, though slightly difficult chapter to do. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

Go read all the other chapters! Thanks to the genius of my lovely beta Erestor, they've been betaed. However I haven't heard from her in ages, and this chapter isn't betaed. I put it up because I wanted to bump the story up and get some reviews. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, just a crazy, book-loving teenager.

* * *

As Faramir's eyes drooped and sealed shut, Boromir and the others walked to the door. Midstep, a thought occurred to Boromir. He needed to find a horse, and had less than a day to get accustomed to each other. That would be difficult, if not impossible. He turned to Aragorn.

"Aragorn, I need a horse."

Aragorn nodded. "Have you ridden any other of the horses in your stables?"

"Not often."

"Do this then. Prepare your gear for tomorrow no, quickly, and then spend the rest of the day with a horse of your own choosing."

Boromir agreed. "I will do as you say. My thanks."

Aragorn smiled in farewell.

Practiced in packing for war, Boromir was ready in less than an hour. As someone had cleaned his armor already, all Boromir needed to do was polish his sword and shield. He would travel light.

Excitement began to creep through his veins at the thought of choosing a new horse. Before going to the stables, he decided to check on Faramir. Through the doorway to his room, he said, "I am going to the stables to find a new horse. I will dine with you at nightfall."

Faramir nodded, too sleepy to say anything. Boromir grinned and strode outdoors. Arriving with an apple as a peace offering for the horse, he found the stable deserted but for a young boy, whom Boromir dismissed with a smile and a coin. The lad's eyes were big in amazement. "M-Milord Boromir?" he stammered.

"I'm here."

"You're not dead, sir?"

"No, though I came close. Run along now."

"Yessir!" he said as he scampered off. Smiling, Boromir turned to the horses. Because of the battle just fought, many of the stalls were empty. There were only three horses that didn't have blankets with special insignia on them. From these, Boromir chose a black thoroughbred. Slipping into the stable, he began muttering to the horse. He held out the apple.

"Here now, you are a handsome one, aren't you? An apple for you." Boromir crooned. The horse shook his head in refusal.

"Oh, I'd take it if I were you. That apple could be easily used in feeding my people."

The horse neighed.

"No, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. It's just that I had to filch that from the kitchen. If cook found me she would have slapped me sure!"

The horse snorted.

"I mean it!" Boromir said, his eyes dancing. "Look you, shall we be friends, or need I go to one of the other horses?"

The horse eyed him as he took the apple, snuffling and breathing warm horse breath all over Boromir's palm.

"Very well then. Let's settle on a name. How do you like Brethilon?"

The horse chuffed.

"No? Arthedain? How about Beleg or Prian?"

He snickered.

"Caladithin? Cardolan? Arahel? No? All right then. How about…" Boromir groped for a name. Suddenly one of Faramir's favorite childhood tales popped into his mind. "…Telperion?"

The horse nodded vigorously. Boromir laughed. "Aye? Faramir would be pleased. Though what you find pleasing in having the name of a famous tree is beyond me."

Boromir led Telperion onto the field. "Show me your paces!" he said, leading him from a canter to a gallop. "Well done, very well done! Now, will you accept me as your rider? Will you aid me in battle?"

Telperion waited as Boromir mounted him. They settled into an easy canter and had gone into a trot when suddenly Aragorn walked into the fields.

"How goes it, Boromir?" he asked as Boromir stopped and dismounted.

"It goes well! This is Telperion." Boromir chuckled at Aragorn's raised eyebrows. "He chose the name himself. Some eight other names weren't good enough. But he is a good horse."

Aragorn shared a laugh. "He is a fine horse, Boromir, and seems to fit well with you. I congratulate you. I had hoped to fave more time to watch but already time presses. There is much calling for my attention, even as captain of the Dunedain and not as a king."

"How can I help?" asked Boromir.

"Thank you, Boromir, but you have enough to tend to. Spend time with Faramir and be ready for tomorrow."

"Aragorn, a word. There is something that has been growing in my heart since this morning." He paused.

"There is no need for thanks of any sort, Boromir. You know what it is like to care for your people." Said Aragorn.

"Let me be your armorer on the morrow." The words came in a rush.  
Aragorn was touched, but he said, "Boromir, I do not ask that of anyone. That is the job of one bound to me and I do not want to bind anyone to me, especially should we fail."

"Though I want to be the first to pledge fealty with you, it is out of love that I want to do this." Boromir said softly.

Aragorn hesitated, studying him. Finally, he spoke. "You honor me, Boromir. My thanks." He embraced him. Boromir was surprised to find Aragorn's eyes glittering with tears. "My lord?"

"I'm all right. I'm just tired."

Boromir was concerned. "Go rest, Aragorn. You have done so much; let me do what I can."

"Thank you."

"Of course. I'll be at your tent at dawn." Boromir said.

The two men walked together to where Aragorn's tent was pitched.

"He is a great man…" was Aragorn's last thought before slipping into sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Please review! I got NO reviews for my last chapter!! That hurts:-( And it's not because I'm not being read -- been put on alerts by several people. PLEASE encourage a beginning writer!

* * *

Boromir realized that Faramir had probably dined hours ago. He'd gotten so caught up with the horse and Aragorn that he had forgotten about dinner. Perhaps Faramir would be asleep. Boromir decided to just slip in and see if Faramir was awake. If he was he would eat with him.

Walking into the Houses of Healing, Boromir found the servant who had served them earlier. "Excuse me! Excuse me, Miss!"

"Yes, milord?"

"Would it be possible to get some dinner? I got rather carried away at the fields. If it isn't, some bread and butter would be fine."

"I think I can arrange something."

"Thank you. Do you know if Faramir is still awake?"

"I'm not sure, milord, I'm sorry."

"That's fine. I'll be in his room. Would you send someone to wake me a half-hour before dawn?"

"Of course." She curtseyed and walked away.

Boromir walked down to Faramir's room. Peeking in at the doorway, he saw Faramir sleeping peacefully, his breathing calm and even. A fire lay crackling in the grate. Someone had laid down a mat and blankets on the floor beside Faramir, no doubt as a bed for Boromir.

Someone tapped Boromir on the shoulder. Turning around, he saw the servant girl with a hunk of buttered bread. Nodding gratefully, he ate the bread and stepped into the bedroom and stripped down to breeches. Faramir's breathing stayed steady as Boromir slipped between the blankets. It was only moments before his eyes closed and his own breathing fell into a steady rhythm.

……

A hand on his shoulder woke Boromir up instantly. A manservant handed a bowl of porridge to him, bowed, and left the room. Faramir, he realized, was awake and watching him.

"Good morning," Faramir said, his eyes on Boromir's scars.

"And to you." Boromir said, splashing his face with water from a basin. He pulled his chain mail vest over his head, then his dress tunic. His vambraces and gloves he stuffed in a pocket; he wouldn't be able to put those on until he finished with Aragorn. He would have to retrieve his armor from the armory; chain mail wouldn't be enough today.

"Three arrows?" asked Faramir. "and you leave today, right?"

"Yes to both."

Faramir nodded, quiet. Boromir stepped up to the bed. "Faramir, I have every intention of returning." He said.

"I'm sorry, brother. I've just…I'm out of sorts. Will father be coming today?"

Boromir was stuck. If he said no, Faramir would ask why. If he said yes, he would lie. He would not lie to him.

"Hah…Faramir…no. He won't be coming."

Faramir's face fell. "Is he that disappointed in me, then?"

"No Faramir, he's not here."

"He's gone on a journey? That's unlike him."

Boromir kneeled on the floor and covered his face. "Faramir, he's not going to return."

"He's dead?"

"Yes. Please hold up, Faramir!" Boromir pleaded.

Though grief was flooding his mind Faramir didn't want to send Boromir off to war worried about him. He steeled his jaw and swallowed the tears threatening to overwhelm his defenses. Boromir brought him a glass of water which he downed.

"I'm sorry, Faramir. But know this: the last words he spoke were of his love for you. I must go know; I promised Aragorn I'd be his armorer this morn. Faramir, I'm so terribly sorry to leave you like this."

Faramir knew what he meant. He would have to be strong for the city; as long as Boromir was gone Faramir would be the unofficial Steward. He would have little time for rest, and when he did there ever would be the very large presence of the city in his mind. There would be small peace even in music and books. But they were his people, and had he not said he would gladly give his life for his city?

"Go, Boromir, and may the Valar protect you. I will be strong. Give my regards to Aragorn."

"Until I return."

Faramir smiled, though his eyes were downcast. "Until then."

……

"Blast!" thought Boromir as he went to Aragorn's tent. He had refused a room, preferring to sleep outside with the soldiers. "Of all the scatterbrained ways to handle it that must have been the worst!" He knew that Faramir would not shirk his duties but he would be hurting badly and sinking into the worst of depressions. Of course he had to be so sensitive. Then again, he himself needed more sensitivity.

Boromir blinked at finding himself at Aragorn's tent already. Aragorn's head poked out between the flaps.

"Boromir! I thought I heard footsteps. Come in," he said.

Boromir gazed at the furnishings in the room. The seven stars and white tree of Gondor were on the wall facing the entrance. Underneath the flag was a bed with blankets and a pillow. A table with a loaf of bread, butter, and tea was standing against the wall. A coal brazier in the far corner dispersed some warmth about the room, though it was still slightly chilly in the morning damp. Aragorn stood by the table, dressed already in shirt, breeches, and boots. The Evenstar shone from his chest.

"Help yourself," said Aragorn, drinking tea from a goblet. "We have time. Did you wake very early?"

"Thank you," he said, taking a hunk of bread and spreading it with butter. "I awoke only about thirty minutes ago. Someone handed me porridge but I forgot about it as I was talking with Faramir."

"Is he well?"

"I am worried for him," Boromir admitted. "He asked about Father and I told him the truth. I could not lie to him, Aragorn! He will be hurting, and again I have to leave him to bear everything alone. I know him and now all he will be wanting to do is bury himself in his books and music but he has to take care of the city; a city living in fear and despair. He will do his duty and more, visiting the wounded and taking care of all business. Going about the city and giving courage to the people when he needs rest and encouragement himself." He paused. "But I could not lie to him. I told him Father is dead, and he held up for me. I saw him struggling to swallow the tears and my heart wrenched. He will be feeling so lonely though all love him, and there will be no one to give him hope." Unshed tears glittered in Boromir's eyes.

"You did right, Boromir, in telling him the truth, for he would feel that you were untrustworthy had you told him an untruth even for his own comfort. You're closest to him. But let us hurry now. Do you armor me," Aragorn pointed at the armor on a stand in the corner, "and I will see him before we leave."

Boromir nodded, feeling a bit relieved. "Thank you, Aragorn. You have comforted me deeply. He will treasure a visit from you as his King and as the one who retrieved him from death."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "He does know I am a man, and not worthy of hero worship? Besides, Boromir, I have grown to love you both as brothers. When I went into his mind I saw a man thoroughly high, and noble; good, and learned. If he and Lord Elrond were put together they would talk through the dawn. In you I found a shining example of the man I had dreamed of being when I was a child. One who was principled, and strong, and courageous," he said.

Boromir blinked back more tears. "My lord, you give me far too much credit." He got up and went to the stand. He removed the chain mail first. Walking to Aragorn, he slid it over his shoulders and settled it atop his shirt. Next, he brought out the shoulder pieces and hooked them into the rings attached to the chain mail. The third piece was the black leather jerkin emblazoned with the White Tree and the Seven Stars. It fit neatly over the chain mail. Boromir pinned a woolen black cloak around Aragorn's neck. Aragorn held out his hands for the gloves and vambraces. Boromir put on the gloves. Turning for the vambraces, he paused. "My vambraces," he said wonderingly, his eyes flickering to Aragorn's face in surprise.

Aragorn dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I took them from you when we arrayed you in the boat. So I would remember the meaning of courage and bravery."

Boromir's eyes widened. He buckled on the vambraces and knelt before his king in awe, bowing his head and looking to the floor. Aragorn lifted him up. "Boromir," he said. "why do you bow? I am not changed, and would have you see me as equal, not better."

Boromir looked up, breathless. "My lord," he said. "I am undeserving of such high praise. I failed. I tried to take the Ring!"

"Boromir, you came back! A true failure would have fled, too ashamed to face the others. You came back and regained your honor! You fought! I am honored to call you brother. I need you to know this!" Aragorn said.

"I count it the highest honor that you are my King, for so high and noble a man is not to be found. Truly has the King returned!" said Boromir, bewildered that so lordly as Aragorn should think of him thus.

Aragorn smiled, and so kingly a heritage was revealed in him that Boromir bowed again.

"Up, Braveheart, and ready our horses! I go to see Faramir and will meet you at the stables! Go now, and be of good courage!"


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter is dedicated to Shane McGovern Lives for being the one and only person to review since I re-posted and began updating regularly. Please, people, review! Just one review per chapter will be enough to keep me posting.

* * *

At the Houses of Healing Faramir lay curled in his bed, weeping gasping sobs that racked his slender frame and sent spasms through his chest. His heart was full of despair. His father was gone! His father who had once played with him; who had once taken interest in his youngest son had died, and Faramir was alone, bereft of all chance to reconcile with him. What had he done to make his father hate him so? Was it his love for books and music and peaceful life? But that was his strength, he knew. It was in the realm of books he could hold his ground with might and cunning and even enjoyment. His father had never enjoyed books but he had never begrudged his wife the pleasure she derived from them. Could he have been so wrong in his battle plans? But they were sound! There was precedent! In his heart Faramir knew that his choices were right, and if he were faced with the same choices he would take the same paths again. Surely his father would have approved that Faramir stood by his decisions? But what did it matter? Denethor was gone, and with him all chances for the paternal love that Faramir had yearned for. He would never know his father's heart. The thought brought tears afresh. Faramir strove to swallow his tears and drift into blissful sleep where he could forget, but the tears wouldn't stop. On they streamed, forming a damp spot on his pillow. He stopped struggling and just gave in to despair, weeping great shuddering cries that came from the depths of his heart, unmindful of the figure that approached the foot of his bed. Still silent, Aragorn knelt beside him and started stroking his back softly. As the sobs quieted down, Aragorn brushed away hair from Faramir's hot forehead with a gentle hand. Faramir's eyes widened as he recognized Aragorn. "My lord, I—"

"Shh," said Aragorn. Faramir fell silent, watching Aragorn. Taking a cloth, Aragorn dipped it into a nearby basin of water and wiped Faramir's tearstained cheeks tenderly. Faramir nearly wept again at the love and compassion in Aragorn's touch. Then, Aragorn took a dry cloth and dried Faramir's face. He propped Faramir up on some pillows. Still quiet, he turned to the table again and poured a glass of fresh water from a pitcher. Looking over the herbs on the table, he picked a few leaves, crushed them, and dropped them into the water. A summery scent spiced the air.

"Just a bit of herbs to relax you," he said as he helped Faramir to drink the water. "Be at peace, Faramir. Rest, and forget," Already Faramir felt himself drifting away, but long he remembered Aragorn's next words:

"Sleep well, Lord Faramir, and be comforted! Do not fear the shadow that falls, and be of good hope! The people love you! Let those who love you care for you; you are not alone! Many are they in the city who would be glad to bear your burden; let them! Rest, and find peace and strength in books and music and all that you love. I will bring Boromir back to you, alive, or die in the effort. He will not be taken from you again. This I swear on my sword! Be of good hope, Faramir, and do not doubt yourself! I have faith in you."

Exhausted, Faramir slept through both day and night. When he woke very early the next morning, the first faint rays of the sun were penetrating through the curtains and were casting a pre-dawn glow about the room. Faramir savored the morning quiet. Oftentimes when he woke early like this he would go on a walk and sort through his plans for the day. He wished he could do so now but he doubted that he'd be able to get out of bed without falling. Still, he could use this time to think. His thoughts drifted to what had happened yesterday. His father was dead and that was an end of it. Faramir resolved not to let himself fall into such a rut as he did yesterday. Nothing would bring him back and that was that.

Boromir had left for Mordor with the others. What was that he had said? Armorer for Aragorn. That was an honor not to be discredited, and a memory that Boromir would always treasure. Rightly so.

He saved the best thing for last. Aragorn's actions yesterday had comforted him more than Aragorn would ever know. He thought no one would love him for himself and not as the protector of the City. When Aragorn came he had cared as no one other than Boromir and his own mother had. The memory of Aragorn taking time from his busy day to soothe Faramir so gently…Was there man so humble? What had he said?... "Be at peace…The people love you…Books and music…I will bring Boromir back to you alive… I have faith in you!"

In him! The King had faith in him! Faramir was awed; what had he done to warrant such faith and… and love?

A slow, peaceful smile settled on Faramir's face. He could go on living, after all…

……

Faramir woke to hear movement in the room. Propping himself up, he saw a young man moving around the room. The man smiled when he saw Faramir up.

"I slept!" said Faramir, bemused.

The man grinned. "Yes, my lord, you did!"

Faramir chuckled. "I had woken before sunrise but fell asleep without realizing it. What time is it?"

"Two hours past dawn. Shall I open the curtains? It's a fine day out."

Faramir nodded. As the man drew the curtains and threw open the windows, light and air filled the room. Faramir's lungs filled with fresh air.

"I should introduce myself, milord. The Warden of these Houses assigned me to care for you in whatever way I can. My name is Dolan, and I am one of the men left to guard the city. I have some skill in healing as I am training to be a healer, and am honored to serve you." said the man.

"I thank you, Dolan.," Faramir said.

"Are you hungry?"

The scent of food had been assailing his nose a while. "Yes, I am," said Faramir.

"Good!" Dolan said, placing a tray with eggs, flatbread, and hot tea over Faramir's knees. "Eat, and eat hearty. If you are up to it after you eat, we'll try standing and walking to the chair today. If you do well today, by tomorrow you should be well enough to go outside."

Faramir looked up from his food a moment. "That sounds grand. Dolan, would you be so good as to tell me what is the state of the people right now? And who is still in the city? Who else is dead and wounded?"

"Lord, I'm not sure you should be worrying about business just yet…"

"Dolan, I have no choice."

Dolan bowed, stumped. He pulled up a chair and began. "There is a Halfling, Meriadoc. It is said that between him and the Lady Eowyn of Rohan (who also lies here in the Houses of Healing), they slew the Lord of the Nazgul and his steed, though King Theoden of Rohan was killed by him. Eomer brother of Eowyn is King of Rohan now. The Lords Aragorn, Gandalf, Imrahil, Eomer and Boromir left; I never did hear where to but I've not a doubt that it's for our good. They left a regiment of men to guard the city. The people have hope; the coming of Lord Aragorn(who healed you and Meriadoc and the Lady Eowyn) has encouraged them. And finally, they rest hearty because they know you will not lead them astray. The entire city sends its well-wishes, and awaits the day they see you about the city."

"Thank you," said Faramir. Aragorn was right, he thought. The people did love him. The thought filled him with pride and love for his people.

"So would you like to get to the chair now?" said Dolan, pulling off the comforter and putting his hands on his hips. Faramir took a deep breath and moved his feet to the floor. It felt cold to his bare feet. Dolan took his arm and helped him to stand. Sweat formed on his forehead as he pushed himself to a straight position, clutching Dolan's arm for stability. Jagged pains tore through his chest as he lurched to the chair a few paces from the bed, Dolan's sturdy form guiding and aiding the staggering Faramir. Finally he reached the chair and collapsed into it, breathing heavily.

"Rest a bit," said Dolan, tucking a blanket around Faramir's knees. "I'm going to get you some hot cider. Then we'll see to getting you to see the others."

Faramir waved him off. "I won't be going anywhere," he said, still breathless.

Dolan took his time in heating the wine and returning from the kitchen, knowing that Faramir would probably fall asleep for a few minutes and replenish his strength. As expected, when he returned a half an hour later Faramir was dozing, his head falling on his chest. Dolan slid a pillow under his head, pushed his head gently back, and tucked in the blanket closer around his chest.

"Hm?" said Faramir sleepily.

Dolan smiled. "Nothing, lord. Sleep a bit."

* * *

Please, read and review! 


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to my reviewers!

* * *

Faramir woke slowly, feeling sleepy. Dolan was nowhere to be seen, but Faramir did think he had slept long. Judging from the light of the sun it was approaching evening. Just then, Dolan crept in, unsure if Faramir was still sleeping. "How do you fare?" he asked Faramir when he saw him awake.

"Help me to the window. I wish I could go outside," said Faramir. Dolan took his arm and helped him stand. Pain started throbbing through him again, but soon subsided, enough to make him stand straight and walk, though slowly and with Dolan guiding him to a pillar by the window. Using it to support himself, he gazed out the window and closed his eyes, comforted by the feel of cool air on his face. Soon, he opened his eyes, and they were met by a pair of steely green eyes. Mesmerized, he stared at the face looking at him from a facing window. Green eyes looking out from a pale face surrounded by rivers of flowing gold that reminded him of tales of the Trees of Laurelin and Telperion. The wind played with her hair, sending tendrils across her face. He nodded at her, hoping to evoke a response from her, feeling an unexpected want to see her laugh, wanting to have the shadows flee from her cold face. She nodded at him, then withdrew into her room.

"Who is she?" he breathed.

"Who, my lord?" asked Dolan from his chair.

"The woman in the house opposite."

"That would be Lady Eowyn."

"Yes, it would be fitting," thought Faramir. "Only one so fair and strong could destroy the Lord of the Nazgul."

"Milord? Faramir?" Dolan was saying. Faramir blinked.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to come back to the chair, now? You've been standing up a long while." Dolan said.

"Bring the chair here, please, Dolan. I want to stay here. Would you get me something to eat, please? And something hot to drink. After that you may go; I'm sure you have things to do."

"Straight away, lord." Dolan bowed and left the room. Faramir sighed. He was being difficult with Dolan, he knew, but he didn't feel like being polite and making conversation with him yet. Or with anyone, for that matter.

His thoughts reverted back to the woman at the window. Those eyes reminded him of shields, of ice, of unshatterable strength. But there was sorrow and pain in her face. He hoped that one day it would disappear, and she would be free to laugh again.

……

Eowyn drew a shuddering breath. She felt stifled and near tears. Two days had she lain here, and it was only this morning they had let her get up. Only through dint of intimidation by glaring had she gotten that officious healer out of her bedroom. Very pompous he had been. Hmph. She had a sneaking suspicion he only wanted to associate himself with the woman Nazgul-slayer. Restless, she got up again and went to the window, rather hoping to see the man who had been looking out of his window opposite. Eowyn didn't know why she did. Perhaps it was the thought of someone else imprisoned by the healers gave her comfort. Perhaps it was the thought of someone else in this dead city. From her vantage point the city was silent, the wind calling mournfully through pillars left standing in piles of rubble demolished by large stones. She needed to get outdoors. See if she didn't make them take her outside on the morrow! Using her good arm, she tied the curtains open. She had made the healer push the high, plush chair in her bedroom close to the window, where she could feel the night breezes kissing her face. She planned to sleep in the chair tonight, well-secured against cold by a bundle of furs left in the room. Settling in, she covered herself with the blankets and looked out into the starry night, waiting for sleep to come.

……

_It was night. Boromir was lying in a cave, unconscious. He was feverish, and light from the fire illumined the sweat pouring from his brow. His hands were tied down to posts driven into the ground as he strained and raved against them, fever and delirium making him strong. A bandage soaked in blood poked through bloodstained shreds of clothing on his side. Opposite him lay Aragorn, also unconscious, a bloodied bandage around his brow. He was pale and his face was drawn with pain. Outdoors, Gimli stood watch as Legolas rummaged frantically through several packs._

"_I can't find it!" he shouted. "Gimli I can't find it! I don't know where the balm is! Boromir needs it! They'll die!"_

"Boromir!" Faramir woke up from his nightmare with a shout, his heart racing. Drenched in sweat, he tore his blankets away from him and rose from the bed, ignoring the pains puncturing his chest. He had to get out, out! Throwing the windows open, he closed his eyes and waited for the wind to cool his throbbing head. Slowly his heart resumed its normal pacing and he relaxed. When he felt the color flow back to his cheeks, he opened his eyes. To his surprise, he saw Eowyn again, watching him through the window. She was sitting by the window, swathed in furs. The window curtains were wide open; it looked as though she had been there all night. It was a good idea, he thought.

Dolan rushed through the door. "My lord, what's wrong?"

"A nightmare, Dolan. Nothing more."

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Yes. Will you do me a favor? Just bring the highback chair and some blankets here by the window. I'll sleep here tonight." Faramir said.

Dolan nodded, complying with Faramir's request. "The air will do you good, lord," he said. "Can I get you anything else? A drink perhaps?" he said when he finished.

Faramir shook his head no. "That will be all," he said, dismissing Dolan and seating himself in the chair. Exhausted by his emotions, he nodded at Eowyn and fell asleep, comforted by the feel of the wind in his face and the soft glow of the stars that cast a luminous light on the grounds.

……

Eowyn had been sleeping on and off through the night, so she was awake when he came to the window opposite her own. She felt compassion for him, watching him as he stood with his eyes closed. There was a thick pain in his pale, drawn face, and he looked as caged as she felt. She studied him. Tousled reddish-gold hair lay in waves around his face. He had a bit of a big nose but a handsome jawline. She judged him to be perhaps in his thirties. He opened his eyes, seeming a bit surprised to see her face but he withdrew suddenly. A moment later a chair appeared and he sat in it. Nodding genteelly at her, he smiled, and slept. She closed her eyes as well, following his example, and fell asleep.

* * *

Please read and review! 


	10. Chapter 10

I've decided to stop begging for reviews. Some people review, others don't. Judging by the number of times I've been favorited and alerted, people are reading and enjoying this fic. There will be two chapters later on that I will beg for reviews because one is my first ever romance and the second is something original that I'm not very sure of how you will accept it. But I'll post a note there. Thank you, and enjoy.

* * *

Boromir trotted along on Telperion, deep in reverie. Pippin before him was silent, his eyes faraway and introspective. Beside him Legolas and Gimli sat on Arod, and before him went Aragorn and Eomer, the two kings. Behind them legions of men traveled on for miles, two in a pair, following the narrow path. All were silent, contemplating what lay ahead. They had been on the road three days, and had made good time, already in Ithilien. For once, he was content to let the others take charge. His mind, he thought ruefully, seemed to be scampering after rabbits. Was this how Faramir felt when he was deep in one of his brown studies?

Boromir could only think of his brother. He feared to think what would happen to Faramir if he didn't return. He would survive, but he would be changed. He was already changed. That awful sadness deep in his eyes... Would Faramir ever go back to his own, old ways? He always seemed so happy lost in his books. What he found in them Boromir would never understand. Didn't really want to, either, since it wasn't necessary for what he was cut out for – warrior work.

But Faramir was wise. More so, he deemed, than perhaps even Denethor. Whether it was because of the books or not, Boromir did not know. The first time they had patrolled together, they had been caught by renegades in a surprise attack. Though Faramir was young and untried, he had suggested a strategy that boosted Boromir's respect for his brother. It spoke volumes of how much Faramir longed for his father's love – that he would force himself to learn, and learn well, something that was distasteful to him.

And yet, Boromir knew it was not only for Denethor that Faramir took up the mantle of ranger. How many times had he seen Faramir about the city, an expression of love in his eyes as he helped and encouraged the people? He suspected that under Faramir's quiet demeanor lay a heart as fiercely patriotic as his own.

If only Denethor could have seen it! Boromir thought of his father with regret. He saw it clearly now, how Sauron had corrupted his father's mind through the palantir. Denethor had gone mad at the end.

And to what purpose? Death and destruction? Something in Boromir's heart refused to admit the possibility of failure while his mind told him there was only a fool's chance for Frodo and Sam. His eyes grew icy hard. He had tried not to be a fool, and that had made him into the biggest fool in all the history of Gondor, Isildur notwithstanding. Now, he would take the fool's chance, and come out the victor. With all his friends, and his king beside.

He shook himself out of his abstraction. There was no use in thoughts; they only made him think of what could never be.

"Aye, that's right, lad." Gimli muttered under his breath. "We'll be stopping to rest soon enough. No need to fall off your horse."

Boromir chuckled. "Not asleep, Master Dwarf, only thinking."

Legolas broke in, a queer smile playing about his lips. "Something you don't seem to be able to do with any success, Gimli."

Gimli huffed at Legolas. "I'll have you know, princeling, that I am considered a master strategist at home!"

"I am sure that your strategy for winning our drinking game was unparalleled. I stand in awe." The elf was all sincerity. Chuckles sounded from the men. Aragorn and Eomer stifled their laughter, glad of some humor to break the gloom and raise spirits.

"I'll demand a rematch, you know. Soon as we finish here." Gimli said.

Aragorn was pleased by Gimli's statement. Whether or not he noticed, he had just given encouragement to all within earshot – that he expected to get out alive.

The gloom dispersed, conversation began to pick up, and horses pulled forward, falling out of rank. Soon they would come to the end of the beaten road and strike out over hill and dale. They would enter Mordor tomorrow.

Boromir listened to the conversations around him, feeling a bit left out. Even Pippin was chatting with Eomer about Merry. Aragorn reined his horse in until he was in step with Boromir. "You are quiet, Boromir," he said.

Boromir shrugged. "That was a nice gesture of Gimli's." he told Aragorn.

"It was," agreed Aragorn. "And friendly talk between the men will encourage spirits. We enter Mordor tomorrow," he finished softly, so Pippin wouldn't hear.

Boromir nodded. "I thought so, too. Do you plan to stop soon?"

"Yes. We'll take a good night's rest tonight. I daresay tomorrow night all will be up thinking of family. In any case, there will be increased watches, and changes in guard often." Aragorn said.

"I can take care of that, if you wish." Boromir said.

"If you can, thank you. Are you all right?"

Just then, Pippin broke in. "'Scuse me Boromir, but Eomer offered to have me ride with him so we could speak better. Would that be all right?" he inquired.

"Certainly," said Boromir, bringing his horse close to Eomer's so that he could hand Pippin to Eomer. Eomer nodded his thanks, Pippin already chattering away to him.

Boromir turned back to Aragorn, smiling. "That hobbit does me nearly as much good as Faramir."

"It seems you do him rather a lot of good too. But I meant to ask, are you well?"

Aragorn's persistence cracked a smile on Boromir's somber face. He nodded. "Yes, Aragorn, I am well. Just a bit depressed."

"Me too. But here we have to guard against that. It's Mordor's first crack against our defenses, and if it takes hold we'll fall much easier than if we were hale and hearty."

Both men fell silent, alongside each other in silent companionship. Aragorn's steady presence comforted Boromir, but he couldn't think of any way to convey his thanks.

Eomer fell back a moment to speak to Aragorn. "Should we send scouts ahead?" he asked. "There is a bend that is perfect for an ambush within two miles from here."

Aragorn started. "I am remiss in my duties. Yes, do. I'll go."

"Stay. I'll do it." Legolas volunteered, giving the reins to Gimli and jumping lithely off the horse. He unslung his bow. He felt that loathed shadow in his mind again, but it may well be because Mordor was near. In any event, he was not about to let Aragorn jump into danger any more than necessary.

That was an ironic statement, considering where they were going.

Legolas crept closer, listening, studying the ground for traps, decoys, or footprints. The Elf's every sense was on heightened alert as he reached a large boulder nestled in the bend in the way. He didn't need to be an elf to know something was very wrong.

Cautiously, so very cautiously, he looked round the bend.

Then he saw it. Something flashed in the sun under the shrubbery on the opposite side of the path. Further study showed other glints of metal. It was a trap, and a big one.

Legolas crept back quickly to where Aragorn and the others had halted, watching for his return.

"Aragorn!" he hissed. "There are Orcs and Easterlings hidden in the shrubbery. I don't think they saw me, but there are some sixscore, I believe."

Aragorn thought out loud. "We have the advantage of cover. And though they are behind the bend, we can still surround them. Eomer, take twoscore of your eored and flank them on the right. Legolas and Gimli, come in from the left with a score and a half. Boromir, Pippin, and Imrahil, do you know this area well? Then take threescore from the back; they will try to escape from there. Gandalf and I will attack in the front with another twoscore. Take your men, everyone, they know how to attack silently. Get into your positions; I'll signal with a curlew call."

The men were ready when he signaled. The battle was over quickly; an easy victory. But none of the captains were reassured.

"It was but a feint to make us overconfident," Aragorn deemed. All concurred.

They went on with their silent, uneasy journey.

Towards evening, the Nazgul came, following every move, keeping out of sight of all but Legolas. Still, all felt their presence as a darkening of the sun and a deepening of the shadow. Every man kept his weapons close at hand.

They made camp in a valley, having the Anduin at their backs. Aragorn posted sentries for every two tents. He ordered that they be relieved every two hours, and that as little possible should be unpacked in order to save time if they needed to fight or flee. Everyone slept uneasily that night, awakening at every rustle that sounded in the bushes. Always, the Nazgul swooped and flew far overhead, making men look up with trepidation at the sky, fearing to see one of the shadows become bigger and resolve into the black cloaks and hissing breath.

Boromir, Aragorn, and Pippin bunked together, Pippin sandwiched between the two men. They alternated standing watch with Eomer and Imrahil. The air outside was frigid, and breaths visibly melted away in the moonlight.

The only sign of dawn was the gradual lightening of the sky from black to murky gray. No alarm was sounded; all the men were already up, packed and saddled. Soon they went on their way for another day of dreary, tense trudging.


	11. Chapter 11

Faramir woke up to sunlight on his face and birdcall from outside. His nightmare faded to the back of his mind. Eowyn was already up, it seemed. And today, he would go outside.

Dolan came in with a tray in his hands. From it rose the scent of hot porridge, raisin-studded and cinnamon-spiced.

"Eat, lord," urged Dolan. "I'll take you outdoors today, after you finish."

"I'm not very hungry, Dolan. Could I just have some bread?" Faramir said, trying to keep a whining note out of his tone.

Dolan raised his eyebrow. "Lord, the kitchens sent this special for Lord Faramir. 'To get his strength up,' the cook said when I went down there. 'We got some cream in there too!' she said. It will be good for you, Faramir. You're far too slight-built as it is," he cajoled.

A hint of a smile played on Faramir's lips. "Very well. I do believe you'll make a fine healer. You've got the bedside manner down properly. I will eat, as much as I can. Send my regards down to the kitchen, and tell them that I will visit them soon," he said, picking up the spoon. It didn't take long before Faramir waved the bowl away. Picking up the tray, Dolan moved it aside. Faramir hadn't eaten much but it was more than he had hoped.

"Now then," said Dolan. "I need to check your wounds and change the bandages." Dolan unwrapped the bandages from Faramir's chest. Deft fingers wiped away crusted blood with a clean rag dipped in a mixture of alcohol and iodine. After applying some balm, he put fresh bandages on the scars and wrapped them up again. "The chance for infection is low, but still possible. I'll check again tomorrow. The wounds are closing."

Faramir dipped his head. "Can I go out now?" he said plaintively, gazing up at the healer.

Dolan chuckled. "Let's go," he said, offering his arm. "I can have a stick made for you, if you like. It seemed that you were able to walk last night."

"Yes, that would be a good aid," he said, rising. "Forgive me if I do not take your arm but I want to see if I can do it on my own."

"Certainly. I'm here if you need me," Dolan assured him. "Where would you like to go?"

"The gardens."

Dolan complied, setting their course towards there. There were reclining chairs there; he would have some pillows and blankets brought.

The gardens were spared much burning, being set in the middle of the city, though there was a bit of stones and rubbish. The city, Faramir realized, had taken a hammering. And the roses needed pruning. Astoundingly, the garden didn't need much work other than that. Perhaps he could do a bit of pruning while he was here, before the load of work descended on his shoulders. Perhaps—no, he would not send for some of the paperwork. Not yet. "Dolan, tha…Oh." He said as he realized that Dolan had led him to a bench under a tree and had disappeared. It was nice to be alone, though. Memories assailed him as he stood. Whenever he had free time, he had brought an apple and a book to read while up in a tree. The trees had always been comforting. In fact there was an old willow that had wide branches that split off and made lovely seats. When he was young he had confided so many secrets to that tree. He had even given it a name and pretended that it was his mother. Well, she did look somewhat like a woman, with her long trailing leaves and the knots in her bark. He stared at it. It wasn't hard to see a sort of sweet face peering through a green veil. Those two branches that had split could be something like arms outstretched to pick up her skirts and dance…Lost in his reverie, Faramir did not hear the light footfall behind him. Eowyn cleared her throat, hoping that he was all right. Faramir blinked, breathing sharply. "Oh!" he said, taking in the face of the woman in the window.

"I was hoping I'd meet you."

Eowyn smiled briefly. "And I you. Did you sleep well yesterday?"

"After I followed your example, I did. I slept much better with the wind in my face. I…I had a nightmare," he admitted, seeing her face studying his.

Eowyn nodded. "I saw it. When you stood with your eyes closed. I'm sorry I spied on you like that, but I…felt so caged. I thought I might have nightmares, so I hoped the wind would stop them."

"Did it?" Faramir asked, his eyes soft.

Eowyn nodded again. "Yes."

"I'm glad." Faramir said, looking at her arm in its sling. "How is your health? I know you were wounded."

"I'm fine. My arm is still a little cold, but I didn't tell _them _that." She said, fire in her eyes. By _them _Faramir guessed she meant the healers.

"They are officious, aren't they?"

"Good gracious! Lady Eowyn, you aren't strong. Lady Eowyn, you're ill. Lady Eowyn, mind your arm. Lady Eowyn, Lady Eowyn until my mind is fairly pounding with noise!"

"Is there any thing I can do?" queried Faramir.

"I'm sorry for my outburst," said Eowyn hurriedly, realizing her lapse in manners. "I didn't mean to imply your healers aren't caring for me. It's just that—"

"That they keep after you with medicine and blankets and pillows and solicitous questions until you want to yell at the top of your lungs!" finished Faramir, chuckling. "I know. Dolan is better than most but when you're wounded, silence is golden."

Eowyn laughed outright. Faramir was startled at the change in her face. Her green eyes glowed with mirth and blood rushed into her cheeks, staining them with a blush. She was young, he realized, saddened by the lines etched by pain into her skin.

"My lord, you are very kind. I do have one request."

"Name it, Lady! If it is in my power, I will grant it."

"My window does not face east."

"Consider it done." he said, understanding. "I can request that the Warden move you to the building I'm in. We can watch the east together," Faramir said.

Silence fell as the threat of Mordor loomed. Both of them thought of the loved ones who had gone east. Eowyn thought of her brother and Aragorn. Faramir thought of his brother and Aragorn.

"Ahem." A throat cleared itself. Both looked up at Dolan. "My lord. My lady. It's lunch time."

Faramir looked to Eowyn. "Would you care to dine with me, lady? We can have it brought here, if you like."

"I…That would be nice."

So they lunched together. Dolan brought a meal of soup and bread, and took it away when they finished. Neither ate much.

"You looked thoroughly engaged when I first came to you. Might I ask of what you were thinking?" Eowyn said.

Faramir laughed, embarrassed. "You'll think my wits addled, but I was just thinking that the tree looks human."

Eowyn's eyebrows lifted imperceptibly. Bemused, she stared at the tree. She could see it, if she looked hard enough. There was a sort of a face…

This was foolishness. A face in a tree? That was out of an old tale.

He saw her hesitation. "I'm sorry, Lady Eowyn. My mind is wearied of wars and bloodshed, and finds peace in old tales, as all I have loved are gone."

"I know."

……

They sat together, finding comfort in one another. They continued the day, until dusk fell and Dolan and Eowyn's maid came to take them to bed. So they continued, day after day, walking together in the garden, growing in health and in comfort with one another, a light to all who saw them.


	12. Chapter 12

They had broken camp hours ago, lunching on the road. It had been an eerily silent day, with no one was at ease, the presence of the Nazgul far overhead still felt. They hadn't bothered with keeping in formation, and the men mixed as they willed. Aragorn was constantly moving among them, riding alongside one, then another, encouraging everyone. Boromir and the other captains followed his lead.

The day passed slowly. The sun was muffled by a thick blanket of swirling clouds.

Hours later, they made camp. The Black Gate was half a day's ride from there. Aragorn ordered that the tents be pitched as close together as possible, and that the soldiers sleep two to a tent, with tack and gear prepared outside. Double sentries were posted for each watch.

The night was short. As they had the morning before, all were ready by sunrise to do Aragorn's bidding. "My brothers, we are nearly at the end of our journey. I do not know if we will succeed in this battle, but I do know that before me stand the bravest men of all the free peoples of Middle-earth, and if we do not succeed, no one else will. Leave all that can be left behind, including tents. If we can, we will come back to them. We ride in half an hour." He said.

By unforeseen design, the men had arranged all extra material in circles. The inner circle was a mound of blankets and tents. Encircling those was a small number of things infinitely more precious—a few drawings done by childish hands, letters, dead flowers, corners of fabric. Before the circles lay a single leather-bound book. Handwritten papers poked out from the edges.

Boromir stood before the little shrine. With a sigh, he dropped to his knees and placed a letter to Faramir in the second row.

He mourned. Mourned for the loss of his father. Mourned for the loss of his brother if Boromir returned not. Mourned for the falling of his people. Mourned for the senseless deaths of so many brave men.

Mourned for the loss of so much goodness in the world. He thought of his little hobbits and what they symbolized for him.

"Come on, Boromir." said a sad little voice. Pippin stepped forward and laid his hand on Boromir's shoulder. "They're waiting for us."

Boromir turned and hugged his little friend, accepting the hand he gave him. "Let's not keep them waiting any longer."

The men were ready and in formation. Boromir took his rightful place next to Aragorn. He wore openly the banner of Elendil over the finely worked chain mail on his chest. With his left hand he gripped the reins of his horse, and with his right he held Anduril high. His horse pranced, ready to start on the road.

"Let the horns be sounded! Herald the return of the King!" said Gandalf, his voice deep with emotion. "Let all the foes of Gondor be warned." Aragorn smiled at his old friend.

Finally they were off! Not a single man spared a backward glance toward Gondor and safety. Beyond this point there was no looking back.


	13. Chapter 13

Oooooh, here we go, people! I think you'll like this one. Enjoy!

* * *

Faramir didn't get to the garden until midmorning, having taken a bath. He had rather hoped to see Eowyn but when he got to the gardens he found a little hobbit pruning the roses. Merry dropped the shears when Faramir startled him with a greeting.

"Oh! I…Well, the roses needed pruning and I…um…ah…"

Faramir took pity on the blushing hobbit. "Found the shears and started pruning. You don't have to, you know. I'm Faramir. You'll be Merry, I think? Both Pippin and Frodo told me of you." Faramir said.

The mention of Pippin and Frodo bought tears to Merry's eyes, but he swallowed them manfully and said, "So that's why you weren't so amazed to see a child-sized man."

Faramir saw the tears in his eyes and guessed as to the source. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned them."

"It's just a bit of loneliness, lord. I should be with them."

"Merry, we've played our part in this war. There is no further call for us unless war comes here to Minas Tirith."

"I know. But I haven't done very much."

"You're modest," said Faramir wryly. "You're welcome to sit with me. Lady Eowyn may stop by later; she did yesterday."

"That would be nice. Is she well?"

"Well you might ask me yourself, Merry!" Eowyn said, overhearing him as she stepped into the glade, a smile escaping her face in spite of herself. Again Faramir felt breathless at seeing the change wrought in her face.

"My Lady!" Merry said, happiness lighting up his face. Faramir caught a glimpse of childhood romps and picnics in a green hollow in the dancing eyes of the hobbit before him. He looked to the east, reminded of the evil that took away the innocence of those who did not deserve to know war and hurt. Eowyn and Merry talked softly, not noticing that Faramir watched them with compassion and love in his eyes. He decided to slip away to the wall to watch the black Tower that continually belched fire and smoke. Eowyn noticed him slipping away silently. "My lord?"

"I won't interrupt this meeting of old friends. You'll find me at the east wall if you want me," he said. With a smile, he bowed and walked away. Eowyn and Merry watched him as he stepped away.

Starting to walk to the post on the wall, Faramir felt alone and reflective. He swallowed the lump in his throat and steeled himself to go up the stairs. A sentry saw him and wordlessly offered his arm to his lord. Faramir accepted the aid with a gracious nod and thanks. When he got to the top, he had to sit down on a settee for a while to regain his breath. The sentry offered his cloak to supplement Faramir's, but just as Faramir refused, Dolan came running up, his eyes wide. "Lady Eowyn and the Halfling told me I could find you here. You walked up the stairs?" he asked, gaping.

Faramir nodded. "With the aid of—" He looked to the sentry.

"Meren," he finished.

"Thank you."

Dolan was staring at Faramir and muttering to himself. "Up stairs…and you not two days out of bed yet! Miracles!...Not two days!"

"Dolan, I'm fine! Stop it!" said Faramir. He hated being fussed over.

"My lord, by no accounts should you be up here! It's cold! And you're not strong!"

"Dolan!" Faramir quelled the urge to shout. "Please, just bring up some blankets, and get some mulled cider or something hot for Meren."

Dolan and Meren nodded at the dismissal evident in his voice and walked downstairs, Dolan returning moments later with a stack of furs and blankets. Faramir stood up and walked farther along the parapet, staring into fires of Mordor, straining his thoughts toward Boromir and Aragorn, hoping for any sign of those he loved.

……

The world stood still as they came upon the Black Gate. Unsheathing Anduril, Aragorn and the Captains rode forward.

"Come forth!" Aragorn cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully has he made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then forever!"

Silence met Aragorn's demand. He was about to order them back when a small door in the gate creaked open. A tall figure upon its horse strode from the Black Gate to meet them. Boromir squeezed Pippin's shoulder, hoping to impart some measure of reassurance to the hobbit. Slowly, silently the Mouth came, studying the group that came forward to meet him. His gaze lingered on Boromir, promising malice to come.

He stopped before Aragorn first. "Think you, manling, that you have the authority to treat with me? With your…bit of elvish glass…and your broken line of ancestors?" Boromir was supremely satisfied to see that the creature was the first to flinch from Aragorn's steady gaze.

"Not a king indeed," thought Boromir. "I'd like to see you find a better."

Gandalf spoke, and the Mouth of Sauron moved on to him, accusing him of being a rabble-rouser and a supplanter. Gandalf didn't deign to answer.

"Gandalf was right not to speak. He knows we have faith in him." said Boromir. The creature's gaze turned to Boromir. He met him fearlessly.

"You should speak, puppet, weak man." The Mouth spat. "Do you not think, even now, that this Ranger has not proved himself worthy to be king?"

"I have only proved myself unworthy to lead Gondor. Aragorn has proven his worth over and again." Boromir said, his tone cold and razor-sharp.

A smug grin on his face, the Mouth of Sauron pulled something out of a bag and held it up to the sunlight. The thing caught the sunlight and flashed light.

Boromir was suddenly livid with anger. Tears poured down his face unheeded in his rage. That blasted…_thing; _that Mouth of Sauron had just held up Frodo's mithril coat. In front of him, Pippin tensed, whispering Frodo's name to the wind.

……

He didn't notice Eowyn's soft footsteps as she ascended and stood next to him.

"My lord?" she asked. He turned to face her. "My lord, are you well?" she asked, startled by traces of tears on his cheeks. "You weep!"

Surprised, he touched cold fingers to his cheeks and felt tears shimmer on the tips.

"I am sorry, Lady. I did not know I wept."

Suddenly, he gasped in outright pain, falling to his knees.

"My Lord? Faramir?" Eowyn tried to support Faramir by wrapping her arms around him, but she felt herself sagging under his weight. Somehow, she managed to drag him to the settee, sinking on the couch with him.

"B-Boromir…" he stammered, his eyes wide with fear. "S-something goes ill with Boromir…" His teeth began chattering, and his fingers were trembling with an intense emotion.

……

"The Halfling was dear to thee, I see."

Enraged, Boromir longed to decapitate the sneering creature. Before he could, Aragorn nudged his horse forward and with one mighty lunge, beheaded the Mouth of Sauron.

Gimli from his perch behind Legolas commented drily that he guessed that concluded negotiations.

"I do not believe it. I _will_ not!" Boromir was startled by the change in Aragorn. He heard desperation and anger in his voice. All in Boromir that longed for peace and goodness answered to Aragorn. Boromir on his horse cantered forward and took his place by Aragorn. Pippin looked up at Boromir and unsheathed his sword. The expression on his face was the same one that he had at Weathertop – fierce courage and determination to win this battle.

"Back! Fall back!" cried Aragorn as the gates began creaking open. Rejoining with the soldiers, Aragorn gave encouragement: "Men of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! The day may come when the age of men comes crashing to an end! But it is not this day. This day we fight!"

Cheers ripped from the throats of the men, confident under their leaders, as they raised their swords to the sky, a threat to those on the other side of the gate. Dismounting from their horses, Eomer, Legolas and Gimli, Gandalf and Merry, Boromir, Pippin, and Aragorn stood at the frontline. In a gesture of honor, Boromir touched the flat of his sword to his forehead. Aragorn imitated the gesture with a smile. "My Captain General, I am glad you are with me."

"It is an honor to draw swords with you, my King!"

"Brother, not king, my friend!" said Aragorn.

The gates were now fully open, and the hosts of Mordor marched out. They reached back as far as the eye could see, but Boromir was ready for them.

"For Frodo!" Aragorn's voice rang out. He turned and ran toward the enemy. Boromir was a footstep behind him. The hobbits took off running, shouting a battle cry to the heavens. Through the bloodlust descending on him, Boromir heard their proud call. A feral grin split his features as he met the first orc head on.

The battle was met!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien, merely a crazy, book-loving teenager.

Please, please, please review this and tell me how I did! This is the climax AND the first romantic chapter I've ever done. PLEASE!

* * *

Eowyn took charge, wrapping Faramir with blankets and rubbing his tense shoulders with her cold fingers. She was frightened, but tried not to show it and upset Faramir further. She felt the tension drain from his body and his breathing return to normal, though a deep, overwhelming sadness poured out from his eyes. Nudging his shoulders gently, she made him lie down on the couch. He spoke, his voice hoarse and tired. "Thank you very much, Lady Eowyn." 

"Shh, Faramir," she said, hoping that he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice. He did.

"Eowyn, please, sit," he said, gesturing to another couch beside him. "I'm so sorry that I have burdened you with this. Boromir and I have a close link, though never have I felt anything at this distance. Something is amiss."

Eowyn sat on the couch, exhausted by the sudden excitement. Faramir got up and brought an armload of furs to her, unfurling one gently over her knees and another around her shoulders. She nodded gratefully.

"I'm sorry, Lord –"

"No, don't be. Please, I think a rest might be in order, for both of us."

It chafed both of them to admit it, but it was true. Faramir lurched back to couch and burrowed into his blankets.

He dreamed strange dreams in his sleep. Aragorn running towards hosts of orcs. A stocky, short figure, another hobbit, jumping off Boromir's horse hollering a battle cry and brandishing a short sword. Boromir in his element, smiling his mad grin as Orc after Orc met its end at the edge of his sword. An unfamiliar dwarf stood his ground, hacking at the hordes of monsters running after him. At his back a lithe, supple figure with blond hair and pointed ears shot arrow after arrow into the melee. As far as Faramir could see, every one hit its mark. Ominous clacks sounded as Gandalf's staff hit thick skulls. His sword, skillfully wielded, worked death to all who dared approach. Eomer of Rohan dispatched of each Orc neatly and quickly.

Then, the Nazgul came. Reminded of his ordeal, Faramir sprang to immediate wakefulness. Eowyn was standing watch, her eyes searching for any activity on the horizon. Faramir rose and joined her.

The battle is met," he said. She looked up at him, surprised at his knowledge.

"I saw it," he said, answering her unspoken query. He saw her shiver. Shedding his fur-lined cloak, he wrapped it around her shoulders. She turned and faced him, studying his face. His eyes were dark, and it seemed to Eowyn that he looked beyond her, seeing something she could not. In a moment of trust, they joined hands and turned to watch the east together.

Dolan, walking across the courtyard below, looked up. Seeing hope renewed, he smiled and went on his way. All who saw them, standing together, felt hope blossom anew in their heart.

As night fell, Faramir and Eowyn turned to go to their rooms. Wishing each other a good night, each walked away, their minds full of strange thoughts.

He dreamed of Eowyn that night, the same dream over and over. He saw her, standing on a grassy hillock. Before her fields of white wildflowers waved with the wind. She was looking over her shoulder, smiling at someone. The sun kissed her hair and lent a rosy hue to her happy face. At that point, the clouds came and shadowed the sky. That was all he saw before sinking into deeper sleep, only to dream it again later.

……

In her bed, Eowyn drew long, shuddering breaths. She had tossed and turned late into the night, refusing to let herself think of Aragorn. Tonight, thoughts of him would not be pushed aside. Worse, the images were mixed up with those of Faramir. She did not want to love Faramir.

But she knew that Faramir was the only one who kept her sane; who kept her from losing her mind with waiting. Fear and pain lay always on the edges of her mind, threatening to creep into senses and overwhelm her barriers.

Tears slipped from under her closed eyes. Suddenly, she felt stifled in her room and wanted air. She kicked the blankets off and threw open the window, letting the cold air bathe her fevered head. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and forced herself to think rationally. Aragorn didn't want her. Her eyes stung at the thought but she knew it to be true. But she wasn't ready to let him go. The tears came quickly now, drawing trails that caught in the moonlight and sparkled. If he didn't come back her heart would break. And yet, she saw Faramir lying pale and tense on the couch, and she felt again the fear that gripped her heart. A strangled sob tore out of her. She went resolutely back to her bed and closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep. Things would look brighter in the morning. She hoped.

……

The next morning, Eowyn stood, her sadness forgotten as she gazed in wonder at the cloak laid on her bed. Faramir had sent her a cloak the color of deep summer-night. It was lined with fur, and embroidered round the hem and cloak were silver stars skillfully tailored. Accompanying it was a small handwritten missive saying only that he hoped she would find this useful and that he hoped it was a fitting complement to the beauty of the Lady of Eowyn.

He didn't know why he sent it. All he knew was that it seemed fitting to give his mother's cloak to Eowyn. He remembered, vaguely, how his mother used to sit in the highest level of the city, looking longingly toward the direction of the sea, enveloped in the cloak. He remembered her sad, wistful beauty and thought that Eowyn shared that beauty with her. He only hoped that she wouldn't take offense.

……

Only a soft rustle alerted him from his post on the wall to her presence when she ascended the steps. Turning around, he caught his breath. Eowyn had the cloak on. The blue in it gave her eyes a deep green tint and made her hair seem nearly white. But as she came closer, he noticed that darkness ringed her eyes and she looked tired. He gave her his hand and led her to the couch. She spoke first.

"Thank you." her voice was tired.

"Forgive me, Lady, but are you well? You look ill."

"I did not sleep well," she admitted. Faramir heard the catch in her voice.

"I am sorry," he said. It hurt him to see her so weary. "Would you like me to take you to your rooms?"

"Thank you, no. I'll just sit here."

"Can I get you some blankets?" he asked.

"No, thank you." The dismissal was evident in her voice. He nodded, accepting, and went to study the horizon.

A moment later, she came to stand beside him, tears falling from under her fluttering eyelids. "I'm sorry, lord. I didn't mean to be rude."

Faramir nodded steady assurance. "I didn't take it as such, Eowyn."

"It's been seven days!" Her emotions were at breaking point, and she could hold them in no longer. "I'm afraid, Faramir! For those I have learned to love!"

"I am too." he admitted readily. "All that I have ever known is gone, and I stand here as lord of the city. But it is a long way from here to Mordor, and everything is so _uncertain_," he said. "Anything could have happened by now."

So they stood together, silent a long time while morning passed to afternoon.

"Faramir, why am I here? I longed to die in battle – an honorable death beside Theoden-king. I still long to die in battle, with a chance for renown and glory. And yet I cannot bear more death!" she said finally. Faramir had a ready answer.

"Eowyn-lady, there will come a time when glory is forgotten. There may come a time when you and I and every man, woman, and child in this city will have to bear arms. What then?"

But there was no answer. Eowyn was shaking with great heaving sobs that would no longer be suppressed.

"Eowyn." His voice was so soft, so utterly compelling. She turned to meet his eyes. Eowyn saw raw strength and courage in his eyes. Neither of them said anything. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on his shoulder. Hesitantly, he brought his arms around her. When she didn't protest, he rested his chin against her head. Eowyn relaxed in his hold. Faramir lifted her and carried her to the couch. She was light, a mere feather of a maiden. hardly straining him at all. He hoped that she would find some peace in sleep. He covered her and pulled up a chair beside her. The sight of the two asleep sent Dolan, who had come up to check on them, scurrying down the stairs, leaving the two to their vigil.

……

Boromir was weary, not even trying to think. He fought leadenly on foot, slipping into the memory of battle stances, thrusts, parries. They had been fighting for hours; morning had passed into noon and it was now drawing into evening and the Orcs just kept _coming_. He was covered in gore from head to toe. Mingled sweat and blood dripped into his eyes from a cut on his forehead. His arms were littered with cuts and his clothes were in shreds. His heart ached for the men that had fallen; some hundreds, perhaps as much as a thousand were dead or dying. Fear for Pippin sometimes grasped him before he pushed it from his mind. Nazgul flew overhead, harrying the men and unnerving the horses. How he detested the filthy beasts.

Out of nowhere, Aragorn pulled up beside him. Roheryn, steady horse, still bore him. Boromir's face lit up briefly at the site of his liege. Like Boromir, Aragorn, too sported a plethora of cuts and bruises. A nasty slash on his sword arm leaked blood. "Up, Boromir," he said breathlessly, lending Boromir a hand up to Roheryn. "I need a moment to tie up my arm and you have been fighting without cease. We'll fall back into the men a bit and catch our breath."

It took a full half hour for them to reach deep enough into the men to find a temporary refuge. Boromir tore a rag off his sleeve to use as a bandage for Aragorn. Out of some hidden pocket Aragorn pulled out a bit of half-decent fabric to wipe off the worse cuts on their faces.

"I wonder what nightfall will bring." Boromir said.

"Only hope for the best."

Within minutes, they went back into the field and were separated from each other, both feeling somewhat ready for more fighting.

The blow took Boromir unawares. A moment ago, he was fighting back to back with a Gondorian. Now a sharp jab to the side of his chest sent him tumbling down, clutching his side. It was a minor wound, but his tired body would take no more. Someone kicked him down and his eyes closed even as his fingers scrabbled for his sword.

Only minutes had passed before he opened his eyes again. Realizing that he was fair game without his sword, he patted the ground around him till he found it. Just as he got up, he heard a voice suddenly brimming with hope calling out: "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

The fighting stopped completely. Called by some unseen signal, the Nazgul turned toward Mordor. A violent earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet. All eyes turned to Mordor. Orodruin was belching out liquid flame and smoke. The foundations of Barad-dur crumbled with a deep rumbling noise, carrying with it the majority of the Orcs. The rest, headless, began screaming and fleeing as the Eye of Sauron burned.

Middle-earth was free from the threat of Sauron.

Wait. Orodruin crumbled.

Tears sprang to Boromir's eyes as he realized what it meant.

The hobbits were there. He looked again at the molten rock issuing from its fissures. It meant that they were dead.

Or not. Gandalf had commandeered three of the Eagles. The lordliest carried Gandalf on its back. Under his direction, they flew with great speed toward the remains of Mordor. A fourth flew in the direction of Gondor, bearing tidings of the victory.

Tears still slipping down his face, he went to find Pippin and the Fellowship. Also Eomer of Rohan. Already he saw Legolas and Gimli trudging toward Aragorn, Eomer and Boromir's uncle Imrahil approaching from the opposite side. Aragorn had already begun looking for men who needed help.

But Pippin was nowhere to be seen. Boromir began running, searching for the little hobbit, crying out his name. Hearing him, the others began to search as well.

……

Something woke Faramir to a wide-eyed stare a moment before Eowyn woke with a gasp.

"Eowyn, something's changed!" Faramir rasped to Eowyn, his voice suddenly hoarse with excitement.

Both sprang up from the couches and hurried to the wall, looking out, hoping desperately to see anything.

Eowyn noticed the change before Faramir did.

"The sun," Eowyn breathed. "The sun is no longer veiled."

Faramir nodded. "Yes," he said. For a moment Eowyn saw a glimpse of Faramir as Captain of the Rangers; wise and stern in the ways of battle. "The sun is out, though setting. That may mean either of two things." His eyes roved back and forth, calculating, planning, always moving in search of…of what? Eowyn did not know. "Either the Nameless one has succeeded and unveils the sun to proclaim his victory or…he is unable to keep it hidden because Aragorn has triumphed with Boromir and the others! I think, in any case, the battle is over. I need to warn the men to be ready for battle, if it comes to that. Men will have to be on the wall, watching." He paused. "It reminds me of Numenor."

"Numenor? Then you think that Darkness is coming?" said Eowyn, drawing nearer to him.

"No. It was just a picture in my mind. I know that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But in my heart, Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, I do not believe any darkness will stand!" Hope and joy rang out in his voice. She moved closer to him and he took her hand in his. Wind came, and kissed their faces, and lifted their hair from their necks in banners of brown and gold as they faced outward. Behind them, in the city, everyone paused in their work, and felt the change. The old blacksmith at the bellows set about with a will, finding strength to go on. In the houses an old woman looked up and smiled, feeling a light, clean breeze caress her withered cheek. Merry in his solitude in the garden decided to go look for something to eat. Hope leapt up in everyone's hearts, and they went about their work with a ready will. The whole city, formerly so silent, began waking up.

Eowyn felt the excitement coursing through Faramir and heard the bustle in the city behind. She felt left out, somehow, saddened, unable to share in their joy. How could they know, she thought dispassionately. It may well be that _he_ won! And what if Orcs should be the next thing to come striding over the hills, not Aragorn victorious, flying the banners of Gondor and Rohan?

"Eowyn, look!" Faramir cried suddenly, breaking Eowyn from her reverie. Far away in the sky something came toward them. "Get down!" he cried. "Get off the walls!" Thinking it to be Nazgul, Eowyn froze, the blood in her veins turned to ice. "No!" she cried. "I faced them once, I'll do it again!"

"Eowyn, it's an Eagle!" Faramir said as it came closer. Her eyes widened. It was indeed an eagle from out of the tales of legend!

He sang as he flew over the city:

_Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,_

_For the Realm of_ _Sauron is ended for ever,_

_And the Dark Tower is thrown down._

_Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard,_

_For your watch hath not been in vain,_

_And the Black Gate is broken,_

_And your King hath passed through,_

_And he is victorious._

_Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West,_

_For your King shall come again,_

_And he shall dwell among you_

_All the days of your life._

_And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,_

_And he shall plant it in the high places,_

_And the City shall be blessed._

_Sing all ye people! _

He was silent for a moment, willing himself to realize it, to _know_ that they were free.

He could ask Eowyn now.

He could ask her if she felt how he did when he saw her.

He could ask her if she knew she made him breathless when she smiled.

He could ask her if…

If she would marry him. The thought made him dizzy with delight.

"Eowyn, lady, we are free!" he said. Goodness triumphant shone from his eyes and erect mien. Eowyn stood breathless. He stooped and kissed her brow. Their eyes met. Eowyn was mesmerized by the intensity in his eyes, saying nothing. Moments passed.

"Eowyn, do you not love me, or will you not?" Faramir was suddenly aware of the pounding of his heart.

"I wished to be loved by another." Said Eowyn. "But I will take no man's pity."

"You wished to be loved by the Lord Aragorn. You wished to have a chance for song and glory and high renown. When he gave you pity you no longer desired his love. Do not scorn the pity that is the gift of a gentle heart, Eowyn! But I do not give you my pity. For you are queenly and valiant yourself, and more beautiful, I deem, than the words of the Elven-tongue can tell. And I love you. Do you not love me? Once, I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, were you the Queen of Gondor, still I would love you. Eowyn, do you not love me?"

She gazed at him long and steadily, wanting to give him an honest answer. Feeling her defenses being swept away, Eowyn tried to remember that it was Aragorn whom she loved, but all she could see was Faramir. Faramir when she had seen him first from across her rooms after his nightmare, pale and sweating. Faramir tense and nervous over Boromir and Aragorn. Faramir as he covered her with blankets. Faramir as she found strength and courage in his arms and eyes. Faramir as he carried her to the couch.

It dawned on Eowyn that she loved Faramir. That she even loved him greatly. She looked up into his eyes locked onto her face.

"Behold!" she said. "The Shadow has departed! I stand before you free of the weight of the world! I will love all things that grow. No longer do I desire to be a queen." She said, laughing. Faramir nodded gravely, hiding a smile. "That is well, for I am no king. But I will wed with the White Lady, and we shall pass to better days."

Not caring who saw, he took her in his arms and kissed her. And Eowyn laughed in joy and love, a maiden unshackled and free as the city behind them that laughed with her and began to live again.


	15. Chapter 15

What is it with you people? I thought for sure that you'd like the last chapter.

* * *

Gimli found him first. "Here!" he said, willing his voice to come out louder. "HERE!" he roared, looking a bit bemused when ten men began running toward him to help him pull the Orc body off Pippin. Aragorn knelt down by Pippin and placed his hand on Pippin's forehead, closing his eyes. "Blankets!" he ordered. "He needs to be warmed. But he'll live." Aragorn took a deep breath, his face grey with his weariness. "See that the men still standing look for those wounded. I will come tend to them."

"It's already being done, lord." Aragorn smiled at them, filling them with a bit more of his strength.

"I must ride now to Minas Tirith and get there before Gandalf does with Frodo and Sam. They'll need my attention."

Aragorn smiled up at them again, disarmingly. "Help me up." he said. "I can't get up."

Boromir would brook none of it.

"Aragorn, you needn't ride all the way back to Minas Tirith. That fourth Eagle, did he not go to Minas Tirith to relieve them of their suspense?"

Eomer answered yes.

"Faramir will send supplies and medicines to Ithilien, perhaps even meet us there. He knows of that sort of thing. Furthermore, you are in no condition to ride anywhere until you've rested. So then, Lord King, lay down—" Boromir gently guided Aragorn down next to Pippin and covered him with his cloak, "—and let us take care of matters." Unresisting, Aragorn closed his eyes. He was so tired! "No more than an hour, mind! I can't…can't…" his words slowed till they faded away in his deep, even breaths.

The captains surrounding Aragorn and Pippin looked at each other with the same glint in their eyes: rather more than an hour, no matter how tired they themselves were.

They turned to face the battlefield, facing each other dismayed. There were miles of bodies to go through and sort!

Eomer took charge, rallying the remains of his men. "Rohirrim!" he cried. "Separate the Orcs from the dead. Clear a place and pile their filthy bodies for burning! If you find any men wounded but alive, bring them here." he said, clearing out a place a small distance from Aragorn. Boromir marveled at the still-strong tones of his friend.

"Those who know anything of medicine, come forward. Tend the wounded."

Eomer calculated rapidly. "The rest of you, collect the dead."

"Well done." Imrahil said. "And now, to our duties. I know a bit of healing."

"Orcs." Eomer and Boromir said at the same time. Imrahil chuckled. "Off to it, then! The sooner the better."

……

Faramir only allowed himself one kiss before pulling his face away from Eowyn's. His arms still wrapped about her, she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Dear heart," he said, his voice husky. "I need to arrange to have supplies sent to Ithilien. That is the nearest place secure from any enemies still running around. They'll go there as soon as they clear the battlefield. The wounded will need aid. And I need to speak to the people."

Eowyn met his gaze. "Do you plan to go with them?" she asked.

Long moments passed as Faramir contemplated going. "No." he said. "I'd only get tired and be a burden before we got very far." He said.

"Good." replied Eowyn. "For if you had gone I would have gone with you."

Faramir smiled and kissed her again. "When they return, I will ask your brother if I may court you."

"If they return," Eowyn said, "our happiness will be complete."

Faramir nodded. Indeed, they were many more that needed to return than Eowyn knew. Frodo and Sam were foremost in his mind.

He pulled himself from Eowyn's side, wishing he could stay.

"I'll meet you at the dinner hall?" Faramir said. Eowyn nodded.

"I too have some things to attend to as well." She said, following him down the stairs. At the bottom, they silently parted.

First, Faramir decided to take care of the supplies to Ithilien. He would need a captain, maybe he could ask Freydis, an old Rohirrim campaigner, to go with two hundred men, yes, that should be enough, to ride the supplies there and accompany Aragorn and the others back to Gondor. Perhaps some of the healers would go. Dolan might like to be in charge of that. They would need salves, medicines, bandages, food, drink, clothing, blankets. Oh, and athelas! _That_ was important. Hm…

Dolan to pack the healers supplies; Beth who worked in the kitchens to take care of the food and drink. He asked Emeron, an old Captain, to buy clothing from the city bazaars. Emeron would also know how much money he would need. They would be ready to leave by tomorrow.

Faramir sent runners out to tell all who weren't busy to gather in an hour in the first level to give directions about readying the city and preparing for the return of the warriors. He would tell them that the rumors about the return of the King were true and that the sons of Denethor had already given their allegiance and named him their King.

……

"People of Gondor! You have heard the great tidings brought by the Eagle. The peoples of Middle-earth are free from the reign of Sauron forever!"

Men, women, and children cheered. Eowyn smiled, proud of her beloved.

"But it cannot be denied that freedom was bought with a great price. There will be many dead. It will be a hard time for many but I promise you that I will do all that I can to help."

Many of them nodded. Tears sprang to the eyes of most of the women.

"But the Eagle also has said that the King has come again. It is now time for me to tell you that the rumors that have been circling the city are true. Beyond all hope and belief, a King of the Kings of old has returned."

The crowd waited, holding its breath for the rest of Faramir's words.

"Boromir and I have already given our allegiance. My friends, I have seen him, and he is worthy of your love. He is a King! The White Tree shall bloom again, and Gondor shall blossom and be a new city, full of grace, dignity, and knowledge.

Prepare the city for the King's return! We need fear darkness no longer. Breath the free air again! I will order men to head groups of people to rebuild the city. It will not be finished quickly, but at least try to clear the rubble and stones.

We are free!"

The city erupted in excitement. Eowyn heard the boundless exhilaration in Faramir's voice and felt herself whooping in joy along with the best of them. Faramir saw her on the sidelines and beamed at her, walking down from the steps to meet her. "There." He said. "I'm done." She smiled at him, her best, her dearest friend. "You spoke well." Eowyn said.

"Thank you. Let's get something to eat. I hate speeches." He said, leading her toward the dining hall. "Boromir does the speeches."

"I know." she said, walking along with him. They were almost there when she spoke again. "Faramir." She said, stopping.

"Hm?"

"What does Faramir do?"

He understood her question. "Faramir reads, and buries himself in the library, generally. Nothing very important now." She heard the longing in his voice and stayed quiet. Though she knew how to read, she had always been too impatient for books. Hm. She'd have to do some exploring to change that…

Oh no. An awful sight met her eyes. Faramir's hand tightened around hers. They had entered the dining hall while she was distracted by her thoughts.

It was full of fevered, wounded men. They were lying everywhere, on the floor, on mats, on the tables, waiting for either the pain to go away or death to come. Wild, maddening pain shone in their eyes.

Faramir turned to Eowyn. "You don't have to stay here." he said softly.

"I know." Eowyn answered before kneeling down to brush cool fingers against a wounded man whose eyes were wrapped in bloody bandages. A cool, steady light blossomed in Faramir's eyes as he regarded Eowyn and her indomitable strength.

He was so proud of her, he thought briefly before kneeling himself and taking a little girl's hand. Her foot, wrapped in bandages, peeked out from under the blanket. She stared at him with hurting eyes.

"Hello." He said to her. She swallowed before answering. "Hello." She whispered. Her voice came so soft, so weak, that Faramir felt tears sting his eyes. "Close your eyes, little girl. Go to sleep. I'm here." he said.

Tears began to slip from under closed eyelids. Her breath hitched as she tried to hide her tears. It hurt so badly, and she didn't know _where _mama went.

She heard him move beside her. Suddenly she felt gentle lips kissing first her right eye, then the left. A calm began to steal through her person and it felt as though she could sleep a while…

Faramir watched as the breaths slowed and the tears ceased, pleased that she slept. When he was satisfied that she was fully asleep, he went on to the rest of the people, applying more salve and wrapping clean, fresh bandages around his wound. He looked up to see Eowyn busy working her way through the men as well. The front of her dress was stained with blood but she didn't seem to mind.

Still watching her, he absently took the hand of the next man, startled to find it so cold. "Damrod!" It was Damrod, Faramir's friend and fellow ranger. He was delirious with fever. A wound on his shoulder needed rewrapping.

The moment his hand connected with the soldier's forehead, Faramir snatched his hand away. In the instance that he had touched the man, a thousand unwanted, unwelcome, and eerily _familiar_ visions had haunted him

Damrod had the Black Breath and was near death.

Faramir knew what he had to do.


	16. Chapter 16

Many, many thanks to my reviewers! You absolutely made my day!

* * *

Aragorn woke up less than an hour later, unrefreshed and sore. Next to him Pippin lay, asleep. Smiling fondly, Aragorn laid a soft hand on his forehead. Satisfied that he was well, Aragorn got to his feet. Much of the area had been scoured and sorted. The Orc bodies were already burning; he could smell their acrid tang. A steady stream of wounded soldiers, many supported by the few who were still on their feet, headed toward a shaded area. He saw Imrahil and several other men tending to them there. Other men were pulling the bodies of their dead comrades toward each other. Aragorn realized blearily that there was no way to bury them. Perhaps he could ask Gandalf to come back and do something for them.

His heart ached for the fallen. He could not even give them the honor of a proper burial. They had no spades or shovels or tools to bury them.

Ah, there was Boromir. He had spied Aragorn from across the field and began trudging toward him.

"I was hoping you would sleep longer." He said.

Aragorn smiled. "I thank you." he said.

"We should be ready to leave in an hour. The men have worked very hard." Boromir said simply.

Aragorn saw the utter weariness in his eyes. He squeezed Boromir's shoulder reassuringly before reaching up to trace the bandage wrapped around Boromir's forehead.

"In an hour all will stop work and rest before we go. That is an order; I refuse to have men falling off horses from weariness because their captain is negligent."

"We will follow you anywhere, Aragorn. You wish to go, do you not?" So close was their friendship that Boromir felt Aragorn's inherent desire to go to Ithilien. Aragorn sighed. "Yes, but not at the cost of everyone."

"Would you like to go ahead with a small force? We'll meet you at the camp?"

"No. I will not leave anyone anymore." Aragorn said.

There was so much that both men wanted to say, but they didn't know how.

Boromir bowed his head in respect to Aragorn.

"Doesn't seem it is over, does it?" Aragorn said. Boromir shook his head. "There is still much to do."

"Indeed." Boromir answered, thinking of Faramir, of Frodo and Sam, the city.

Again, they seemed to run out of words. Boromir swallowed.

"Soon, Boromir, we will sit together before a fire in the Great Hall in Minas Tirith and drink ale. Until then, take heart."

Dash it all, Boromir thought. He embraced Aragorn fiercely. For a moment, Boromir thought Aragorn leaned on him, drawing strength from his stocky frame. Tears in his eyes belied the words he had just spoken to Boromir. Boromir had visions of a man that always gave strength and hope when he had none for himself. "Take heart." Boromir said, his voice strong and steady. He gazed into Aragorn's face, willing the last ounce of strength in him to somehow flow into Aragorn and ease the lines of care on his face. "The Great Hall awaits. Keep hope. I refuse to believe that they are dead. We'll get there in time."

A slow smile crossed Aragorn's face. "Hope indeed. One of my names is Hope."

"Estel. I know. I heard Lady Arwen and Lady Galadriel use it." Boromir said. "It fits."

"It'll keep." Aragorn said. "Let's go help the others."

……

Bracing himself, Faramir laid one hand on Damrod's brow and let himself sink into the man's mind. A barrage of violent images began attacking Faramir, but he forced himself to hold until the images passed.

As though he had passed through a door, the images ceased and he found himself walking on a path leading through a short ravine before turning out of sight. The sky was a dusky crimson, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. It was utterly silent as he trudged on, his limbs heavy with weariness. Judging from the tracks, Damrod was weakening, his footsteps growing heavier and lurching off into different directions. Blood had fallen onto the road and mixed with the dirt to form an ominous sludge.

As he passed the bend in the road, he heard the familiar rushing of a river.

On the other bank, Damrod knelt on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. His ivory skin glowed faintly, the last bit of life spilling away. Dark red blood forged gory trails from his mouth to his chin before dripping into a puddle on the ground.

But Faramir could not cross the river. It was a black river. Dead things floated in it. Stooping, Faramir looked down into its depths.

He saw Death.

It leered at him from the water, reached wafting arms to ensnare the one who had been pulled from his clutching grasp. The One who had called him was no longer there to hinder Death's due.

Faramir wrenched himself away. If he crossed the river, he would die.

But he would not leave his friend to die. "Damrod!" he called.

Disbelieving, the man lifted his head weakly to stare at Faramir. "Are you dead, too?" he rasped. Somehow, it didn't seem possible. Faramir stood hale and strong on the opposite bank, ready to help him.

Faramir heard. "No, I am here to help you! Damrod, cross the river back to me!"

Lordly, he seemed so lordly! Damrod thought. He moaned, knowing he could find healing under Faramir's capable hands.

"Damrod, _Sauron is defeated_! The King will return to Gondor!" Faramir said, sensing Damrod's hesitance. At his words the darkness seemed to hiss and seethe with anger.

The image of Minas Tirith restored and all set to rights made Damrod realize: he was not ready to die. With his last dregs of strength, Damrod reached his hand out and crawled to the river.

It was so cold! The suddenly frigid water battered Damrod till he felt himself dizzying and nauseated from the cold and pain. Faramir laid down on the bank and stretched his arm out as far as he could to the failing Damrod.

He reached him! Faramir pulled Damrod out of the river into his arms. Immediately Damrod felt a warm calm stealing over him and he felt as though he could _sleep_.

Faramir smiled. "Sleep, my brother." He said, willing himself to drift out of Damrod's mind and into his own.

Faramir opened his eyes. Eowyn stood beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. Merry had a bowl of steaming water and some dried athelas in hand.

"Faramir! Are you well?" His eyes, big and frightened, pleaded for an affirmative answer. Faramir took the athelas and crushed it into the water. As its unforgettable scent wafted in the air and renewed their strengths, Faramir embraced Eowyn and the hobbit. "I didn't know I could do that." He said. On the mat Damrod stirred before falling into a pure sleep.

"On to the next one!" Faramir continued. "Is this the shadow ward?"

A passing healer heard him and answered, "Yes, sir. All of them were placed here because they were disturbing the others. Those who didn't fit in the Houses were sent here."

"Have any awoke?" He said, unable to hide the horror in his voice. The healer shook her head in regret. "Other than the ones that the Lord Aragorn healed, no."

He swore. "How many have died?" How many had died while he rested free from worry? How many had died while he had neglected his people? How many had died while he dreamt about Eowyn?

"Three." She answered.

"Blast! I've much to do."

Faramir was determined to use his newfound gift. With the aid of Eowyn and Merry, he called eight more men from the shadow before he didn't dare to do more for fear he wouldn't be able to return with them. Impossibly tired, he trudged across the level to his rooms before collapsing onto his bed. Eowyn walked alongside him, ready to support him if he buckled. In silent companionship, she studied him. She liked the newfound look of purpose in his eyes. "He will make a good husband," she found herself thinking with a blush. When they reached his room she surrendered him to the ready care of Dolan, snatching a moment to say goodbye to Faramir before he left with the men carrying the supplies to Ithilien. Dolan took one look at him before consigning him to his bed and pulling the comforter over his shoulders. Faramir was asleep within moments.


	17. Chapter 17

With many thanks to my reviewers.

* * *

The sun was arching into the west before they had managed to tend to all the wounded, burn the orcs, and pile the dead. Aragorn ordered them to set up camp a short distance from the battlefield. Under Aragorn's sleepless watch, the night passed quickly and uneventfully.

They left at midmorning, both Aragorn and Boromir restless to be off. Boromir's arms held Pippin steady as he slipped in and out of sleep. Legolas and Gimli doubled as scouts; going forward many miles before reporting back to Aragorn. The two reached Ithilien a day before Aragorn and the others.

Before Legolas and Gimli began to unpack, Gandalf on Gwaihir flew in, the other two eagles carrying Frodo and Sam. As they hovered ahead, Gandalf came down and told Legolas and Gimli that they were flying on ahead to Gondor, and to tell Aragorn and the others to ride on ahead soon as possible. He would keep the two alive until he could come there. Not waiting for an acknowledgement, Gandalf flew off.

"It's a good thing we haven't unpacked." Gimli said.

Legolas nodded. "Let's go." He said, mounting Arod and reaching a hand to Gimli.

"Did you see them?" Gimli asked after a short silence. "You have good eyes."

"I did. There are no words to describe their cuts and wounds." Legolas said quietly. "Even the Elves would not be able to understand their hurts."

Gimli grunted. "Can't you get any more speed out of this horse?" he asked.

Legolas said a few soft Elvish words to the horse. Arod showed his paces.

……

"Aragorn! Aragorn!" Legolas called as he and Gimli neared the column of men. "Gandalf met us at Ithilien and told us he was going on ahead to Minas Tirith. He promised to keep them alive till you came!"

"Well done!" Aragorn said. "I am going to go ahead. Those who wish may go with me but be warned, I will be riding through the night. Who wants to come?"

Boromir and Pippin, Legolas and Gimli, and Eomer cantered forward.

"We will follow after we have rested." Legolas said. Aragorn nodded, his eyes searching for one to lead the rest of the men. Imrahil, Lord of Dol Amroth, stepped forward, offering to take charge of the others so that Aragorn could go. Gamling of Rohan seconded him.

Suddenly, Aragorn charged ahead. Boromir, Pippin and Eomer urged their horses forward.

They soon left the others behind. Aragorn's eyes were intent on the road as they galloped throughout the night and until noon of the following day, lunching on hunks of stale bread by a tributary of the Anduin. Pippin woke briefly to eat before slipping to sleep again beside Boromir. Sleepless, Aragorn volunteered to stand guard while the others slept. Half an hour later, Legolas and Gimli joined them. They all left together after five hours of sleep.

They were silent as they marched, all having picked up on Aragorn's anxiety to get to Minas Tirith in time. The next stretch brought them within twenty miles of Minas Tirith.

"Stop and rest." Aragorn said unexpectedly, dismounting. "I'll keep watch." Though he was exhausted, he knew there would be no rest for him until he took care of Frodo and Sam.

After he lifted Pippin, sleepy but awake, from the saddle, Boromir walked to Aragorn.

"I'll stand watch." He said. "You haven't slept at all."

Aragorn shook his head. "I'm fine."

Boromir snorted in amusement as a sudden yawn nearly split Aragorn in two. He cleared his throat loudly. Aragorn hid a grin. "Very well!" he said. "Thank you." Eomer nearby laughed at the exchange.

"Let me do it." Said Eomer.

"Do what?" asked Legolas.

"Keep watch." Eomer said.

"Oh, I'll do it. I do not need sleep as often as mortals do. I'll keep watch."

"Bloody elf." Gimli interjected. Legolas pretended not to notice.

Everyone looked toward Aragorn.

"Let him do it." He said, nodding at the elf. "Now everyone else, go to sleep!"

The last thing everyone heard before falling asleep was Pippin muttering just loud enough for all to hear:

"Strange, strange men. So very polite! Arguing over who gets watch. Good gracious me, it's a funny lot you men are. Hobbits now, they're something else…Yes, something else entirely…"

It was barely midday when they all awoke. Gimli sighed. "Up on the horse. Again. I do believe I'm getting bowlegged from all this riding."

"Not too much longer, Master Gimli!" answered Boromir. "We're almost there." He said, feeling more comfortable now that he had rested and was so near to home. "We're already in Gondor. Aragorn, I can show you a shortcut that will get us to Minas Tirith by sunset today."

Aragorn nodded, smiling softly. "Left and through the trees till you get to the boulder outcropping."

An elusive memory tugged at Boromir. Somewhere, so long ago, someone had said that to him. Boromir's jaw dropped in sudden understanding. "Thorongil?" he said, remembering a sunny day and a rare picnic with Denethor, Finduilas, and a big, tall, beloved man who showed him a secret shortcut back to Minas Tirith.

Aragorn grinned. "I didn't think you'd remember." He said.

"Not remember? Not remember Thor?..." Boromir's voice trailed off in stunned recollection. "I was so hurt when you left. But you left the…" Boromir stopped abruptly. "What was it? A..."

"Toy soldier. Carved from a piece of driftwood."

"With an eagle on the helmet!" finished Boromir.

Aragorn dipped his head. "You were seven when I left."

Boromir smiled. "And to think, you and he are the same! Is that why Father didn't like you? Did he know?"

"You noticed? No, he did not know. But, your grandfather, Lord Ecthelion, kept holding me up to Denethor as an example to imitate, and I think that is why Lord Denethor disliked me so."

Boromir concurred. "Yes, I can see that. A teenage boy has strange notions in his head, and having one person held up as a model will not do much to raise that person in his estimation…"

"…You speak of Faramir, I guess?" Pippin interjected.

"No. It's how I would have felt."

"Oh." Pippin replied.

"I thought you were awake, Pippin." Aragorn said.

"Ack! I thought I had fooled you." Pippin replied, stretching stiffly.

"How's your head?" Boromir asked.

"Fine, thank you." A transitory gleam peeped from his eyes. "But I don't think I'll ever walk the same again. Far too long on a horse."

Boromir threw his head back and laughed. "I felt the same way, once!"

"When was that?..."

Aragorn smiled at the two. He remembered. Oh, he remembered the two sons of Gondor! So long ago, so many nights before the fire in the Great Hall playing soldiers with Boromir. Faramir, two years younger, sat quietly beside Boromir and watched, his eyes huge with interest. As the evening progressed, his eyes would slowly close until some roar of victory from Boromir sent him skittering to wakefulness. Getting up from her chair and her knitting, Finduilas would lift the sleepy child and carry him back to her seat, covering him with her shawl as he readjusted himself, his head resting comfortably on his mother's neck. Soon after, Boromir too would grow heavy-eyed. Taking his hand, Finduilas would lead him and his brother to bed. Sometimes after those evenings Aragorn's heart was so full that he stayed on the ramparts until dawn, watching, thinking, dreaming of Arwen, even daring to see little ones playing at her feet. How he missed her!

Would he ever see her again? Had she left, as he had told her to? Even as he looked into his heart he could find no answer. But he knew that the memory of her was not enough. Would never be enough.

Aragorn sighed. He did not know.

……

"There! Aragorn!" Lost in his brown study, Aragorn didn't notice that they were in sight of the city until Boromir's words snapped him out of his reverie. Over the city two Eagles wheeled and dipped and perched on the turrets. Without a word to the others, Aragorn spurred his horse to a gallop, Boromir and the others a moment behind him.

……

"Faramir!" Eowyn cried. "Faramir, look!"

Walking up the stairs to the parapet, Faramir took the last two steps in a jump and came running to Eowyn. Immediately, he recognized the five horsemen approaching the city in a mad dash for the gates. He whooped for joy. "Eowyn, it's them! They're back!"

Speechless, Eowyn took his hand. Together, they rushed down the stairs, running for the gates.

"Open the gates!" Faramir shouted as soon as they got within hearing range, Frodo and Sam forgotten for the moment. "Quick, men, as fast as you can! Greet your King and his men!"

……

The first people Aragorn, Boromir, Pippin, Eomer, Legolas, and Gimli saw when they trotted through the gates were Faramir and Eowyn standing side by side. Boromir saw with steady amusement how Faramir took Eowyn by the hand and led her to her brother before turning around and facing his King and brother.

"Welcome back to Minas Tirith, my Lord."

Aragorn smiled. "Thank you."

Faramir was a different man, Boromir noticed. There was a soft light of unquenchable happiness in his eyes as he regarded those he loved most. There was something else, too. An intense resilience blazed from Faramir as he stood there. He looked _whole_, Boromir realized, and healthy. No longer tired mentally and physically. The realization brought a sheen of tears to his eyes. It had been too long since Faramir was like that. Seeing Boromir's eyes glittering, Faramir stepped forward and grabbed his brother in a deep embrace. Boromir leaned on him for a moment, reveling in the strength he had always known was in his quiet, scholarly little brother. "You look very well." He said.

The smile Faramir gave him had a wealth of hidden knowledge in it. "As do you." Faramir said.

A clatter of noise from Gandalf's staff alerted everyone to the wizard hurrying along the cobblestone path to them, Merry running beside him. "Aragorn!" Gandalf cried.

Aragorn grinned, turning to face him. At the last moment possible, Gandalf stopped running and made a creaky bow to Aragorn. A deep, kind light was in his eyes. Merry and Pippin were sniffling away tears and hugging each other.

"My friend," Aragorn said. "It is good to see you."

Gandalf engulfed Aragorn in his arms. "Well done, my Lord!" he said. "But Frodo and Sam await in the Houses of Healing. I am sorry to trouble you now when you must be tired but they are fading. I cannot hold them for much longer."

Aragorn followed Gandalf to the Houses. Everyone began to walk with them but Aragorn turned around and said. "Go and rest, my friends. There is nothing more you can do for the Ringbearers."

_Only I can, now_.

That last thought remained unspoken.


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry for the delay, everyone. I haven't had a computer lately. Just thought you might be interested to know that I finished writing this tale; it has six chapters to go. A new story is in the works, too! 

With thanks to my reviewers.

* * *

As Aragorn turned back and followed Gandalf to Frodo and Sam's room, Faramir turned to the rest of the Company. "My lords, even now the evening meal is being served. If you would care to join us, I will lead you to the Great Hall. I will also have rooms prepared for you, as I'm sure you wish to rest."

"Faramir," called Eowyn from her position next to Eomer. "Have the Lord Aragorn's room opposite that of Frodo and Sam." She said, remembering how worn Faramir had been from his work in healing. "I'll take them to the Great Hall."

Faramir nodded gratefully at her. "Thank you."

Eomer stared at his sister's retreating back, a light of apprehension in his eyes at Eowyn's familiar manner with Faramir. He resolved to ask his sister if she knew whom it was that she was ordering around. Blast it, she wasn't in Rohan anymore, she should know better! 

Behind him, Boromir nudged Eomer forward. He realized with a start that everyone else was following Eowyn and were several yards ahead. 

Boromir chuckled. "You noticed, hm?"

"Uh, Boromir, I…Well she's not…" Eomer stopped and took a deep breath. "I apologize for my sister's rash behavior." He finished.

Boromir stared at Eomer, baffled. "But _why_?"

Now it was Eomer's turn to be mystified. "Aren't you offended?"

Suddenly it dawned on Boromir. "I think they're in love!" he said, throwing his head back and laughing at the dumbfounded look on Eomer's face.

"Love? Eowyn?" Eomer said. "That seems impossible."

Boromir smiled before he pulled Eomer over to the Great Hall. "With that look in his eyes, I wager he's only waiting to talk to me or his uncle before asking your permission."

"I'll grill him first!" Eomer threatened, though he was trying to hold back a grin. This was good news. 

"He can hold his own." Boromir said. "Now be quiet and let's eat, I'm famished!" he finished as they entered the Hall. Merry and Pippin grinned at them as they walked by.

"Where'd you two go?" Merry asked. 

"Perhaps you don't want to know, Merry." Pippin said, looking up from his plate. "I think Men are the strangest creatures to walk Middle-earth. On the way here they _argued_ over who was to keep watch."

"Really? Why?" 

"I haven't the faintest idea…"

Boromir and Eomer hid grins as they walked to the table filled with meat pies, stew, and vegetables. Piling their plates, they went and sat at the table. Eowyn sat next to them, holding a tankard of mulled wine in her hands, smiling at her brother. 

"It is good to see you, Eomer, Boromir." She said.

"You look well, Lady Eowyn." Boromir said. Eowyn bowed her head, blushing faintly. 

"Thank you," she answered. "Now eat!"

The men needed no more urging, digging in with a good will.

……

Death lurked in the room where Frodo and Sam lay. Aragorn felt it the moment he walked in the door, a palpable, foreboding presence taking advantage of Gandalf's momentary absence to grow and try to take the lives it waited for. It shrunk upon Aragorn and Gandalf's advent.

"_Valar!_" Aragorn whispered in shock when he saw the two hobbits. "How long?' he asked Gandalf tersely.

"Yesterday morning." Gandalf answered as Aragorn started checking the hobbits. They had been bathed and their wounds tended to, but the difficulty of their journey was etched into their faces. At a wordless request from Aragorn, Gandalf lit the braziers in the dim room, throwing the hobbit's faces into sharp relief. Their thin, scarred faces were gray with weariness, though their cheeks were suffused with the hot blush of fever. The thick layer of salve on their lips could not hide their chapped, crusted appearance. In fevered sleep, their eyes fluttered back and forth, accented by the dark bags underneath their eyes. Frodo was thin, so thin! Sam next to him seemed like a giant, though his clothes hung loose and ragged on his weak body. Worst of all Frodo's breath came in weak, gasping gulps.

"Help me undress them." Aragorn said.

"Sam has no bodily wounds. But Frodo…" Gandalf's words trailed off as he supported Frodo's limp body while Aragorn removed the shift from him. Unwrapping the bandages encircling Frodo's chest, Aragorn hissed angrily at the weeping wounds that oozed body fluid, his hand tightening on Frodo's unresponsive arm. It would be so hard to call him back, but Aragorn was determined to do it and keep the little hobbit from sinking into death. Sensing his hesitation, Gandalf said, "What is it, Aragorn?" 

From his position by the bed, Aragorn looked up. "They will live, though life will be dearly bought, especially for Frodo." He said, knowing that he would need at least a full day to sleep off the exhaustion that would invariably fall on him like a rock.

Gandalf nodded, understanding Aragorn's thoughts. Sighing, he replied, "I am with you, my boy." Aragorn smiled at the long-unused name. "But perhaps, Aragorn, you should tend to Sam first. He is not so burdened as Frodo. He is very weary, and his thoughts run in dark circles that he cannot wake from." 

Aragorn dipped his head in agreement. "Is there athelas?" he asked. Gandalf motioned to the table beside him where some dried athelas was in a small pot. Jars of lip balm, antiseptic balm, herbs, and other medicines, and clean rags covered the table. In the middle of the table resided a covered teakettle filled with lightly steaming water. Aragorn was about to chew the athelas leaves and cast them into the water when Gandalf stopped him by holding his arm. 

"Wait." He said. "Drink some tea first. Have something to strengthen you." Aragorn bit back an impatient reply and waited as Gandalf poured some water into a goblet and placed some herbs into the cup. Quaffing it quickly, Aragorn continued with the chewing of the leaves and threw them into the water. Again he marveled at its properties as its bracing scent chased the shadows out of the room. Frodo seemed to breathe a bit easier as it diffused about the room, and Sam's tense face seemed to relax a bit. Smiling fondly at Sam, Aragorn held one hand to Sam's forehead, the other to Sam's cheek. Aragorn quickly found him wandering deep in a desolate shire…the End of the Shire. Aragorn heard Sam's sobs as he walked by what Aragorn knew to be Bag End from Bilbo and Gandalf's descriptions in happier times. Mournful whispers escaped Sam's lips…_Rosie_…_Mr. Frodo_…_Death! Why does it flee from me?_...

Softly, Aragorn spoke. _It flees, Samwise Gamgee, because I bid it to. It is over, Sam. We won the war. _

At first, Sam felt only a cooling breeze caress his hot and heavy head. Looking up, he saw Aragorn. Aragorn the King, a light of love and compassion blazing from him, looking down at him from a hill. In a remembrance of Cirith Ungol, an Elvish word came to mind. _Elessar!_

_Sam! _Aragorn answered. _I'm here! Listen to me, Stalwart! Sauron is vanquished! And I have high hopes that Frodo will live!_

_Frodo? _Sam repeated, not understanding. How could it be? They were dead, they were all dead, and only he was left. So many times, so many times, he had come here, and they were all gone. Nobody was left, and now the ghost of Aragorn came to assail him. No, he was the last one left. He started to walk away from Aragorn, but Aragorn followed. 

_Sam!_ He called again. Sam stopped and turned around, watching him.

_You're just…taunting me. You'll disappear the moment I turn my back. Go away! Leave me alone! Haven't we done enough? _

_Sam! I'm real. _Aragorn stepped forward and grasped Sam's shoulder.

Sam gasped at the intensity of strength and love flowing from Aragorn. Incredulously he stared at Aragorn.

_Strider? You're here? Are you dead? How did you get here?_

_I am the King, Sam. I am not dead, and neither are you. The dead rest, Sam, they do not travel in desolate lands. Come back with me! _Aragorn held out a welcoming hand to him.

Suddenly, Sam grabbed his hand. _I'll come!_ he said, a new light shining in his eyes. Aragorn smiled approvingly at him. _Ready? _He asked.

_Ready! _Sam answered.

Aragorn let himself sink out of the healer's trance. On the bed Sam took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering open. Bewildered and tired beyond words, he looked toward Aragorn. The kindly light was still bright in his eyes as he held a gentle palm to Sam's cheek. "Sleep, Sam." He said, his voice utterly compelling. "You're safe now." Slowly Sam's eyes flickered shut. Aragorn sat back in his seat, his eyes meeting Gandalf's with a mild smile. "He lives." He answered to Gandalf's unspoken query. Gandalf bowed his head to Aragorn. 

……

Boromir stepped gratefully into the tub of steaming water, sighing with relief as his muscles relaxed. For once he could put aside thoughts of war and death and just…fall…asleep…

Eomer had availed himself quickly of the bath. Exhausted, he only wanted the lush, inviting bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow…

Merry and Pippin, again inseparable, were in Pippin's room. Pippin too was bathing. Merry waited next to a curtain partitioning the room, speaking softly to Pippin…

One of the last to leave the Great Hall after the meal, Gimli was crossing the courtyard when a belated thought occurred to him. Surely there was some place that dirty warriors could hose off somewhere…Yes, there, there was a fountain. He shivered as the cool water splashed over him, carrying away the dirt and grime etched into his skin. Dwarves generally didn't like water quite so much but there was such a thing as carrying it too far. Hopefully there was a hot bath in his room. Gimli's eyes sparkled at the idea…

In his own rooms, Legolas savored the time by himself. Though, he thought wryly, he had been happy with Gimli, solitude had been scarce during their journey…

……

Aragorn got up and pulled his chair to Frodo's side of the bed. Frodo too did not offer any resistance, though Aragorn found him not in the Shire but in an inky, stifling darkness that pushed Aragorn out of the trance and back into himself. Gandalf stepped forward and laid a reassuring hand on Aragorn's shoulder. Aragorn felt something strong –he had a flashing vision of white smoke—wafting into him and settling in his chest. Renewing the athelas, Aragorn filled his lungs with the scent and laid his hand over Frodo's heart, sending his consciousness into his very veins, _burning_, as it were, the poison that turned Frodo's muscles into lead. Above, Gandalf watched as the wounds on Frodo's chest gradually shut and seamed into scars as Aragorn sent his healing into Frodo's body. Frodo's fever broke when Aragorn burned the poison away. Still keeping his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, Gandalf reached over and sponged away the sweat that poured from Frodo's forehead. 

Unexpectedly Aragorn awakened cold and gasping from the healer's trance. Sagging with exhaustion, Aragorn gulped in lungfuls of air fragrant with athelas to calm himself. Gandalf held him as he nearly toppled from the seat onto the bed.

"Should you stop?" Gandalf asked. "You are very weary. He can wait a while longer now, can he not?"

"No!" Aragorn said, breathing deliberately to get his heartbeat to return to normal. "If we wait any longer I won't be able to go after him without killing myself. I must do it now." 

"Then sit here,' Gandalf said, pushing him back into the seat, "…and drink this!" Taking Aragorn's goblet, he filled it with fresh water from another kettle in the fireplace. Again, he cast herbs into it, but this time he pulled a small vial out of his sleeves and poured some into the tea. Aragorn looked at him quizzically. 

"What is it?" asked Aragorn.

"Brandy." Gandalf answered. From the look in his eyes, Aragorn guessed that the old wizard was hiding something. "Drink it slowly." Still wondering, Aragorn accepted the goblet. Lifting it to Gandalf, he took the first sip, enjoying the feel of the liquor as it warmed him and brought some measure of wakefulness to him. Finishing it, he turned to Frodo again. As before, he lay his hand on Frodo's face and let himself sink into the healer's trance.

……

Boromir woke mid-snore. The water was cold. Very cold. He had fallen asleep. _Hang._ Getting out of the tub, Boromir dried himself and put on his sleep tunic. As he walked to his bed a stray thought tugged at his mind, bringing him to full wakefulness. 

Aragorn and Frodo. It wouldn't be right for him to sleep in comfort when his Lord was struggling now. Well, if Frodo and Sam were in the special case room, there would be some rooms opposite that he could sit in and wait. Slipping his breeches on underneath his sleep tunic, Boromir made his way over to the Houses of Healing.

Eomer was next to arrive. Judging from the sluggishness of his movements, Boromir figured that he had just awoken, probably for the same reason he had. Wordlessly, Eomer walked down the steps and sat wearily on the far side of the couch, beside Boromir. 

Legolas entered in moments after Eomer. With a gentle smile on his face, he ambled down the steps. Choosing to sit on the floor, he sat down opposite the men on the couch. Boromir tossed him a cushion.

Soon after, Gimli too stood at the threshold of the room. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he surveyed the room, selecting a stuffed chair to sit in. It creaked ominously as he clambered in. "So we wait." He said, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes. We wait." Pippin said, standing at the door, clinging to Merry's arm. He was pale with the effort and weariness. 

"Did you sleep at all?" asked Boromir as he got up and helped them.

"A bit. I fell asleep in the bath. Merry came and pulled me out." Pippin answered. 

Boromir smiled. "I did the same."

"Then we decided to come here, to see if there was any news." Merry piped up.

"No."answered Legolas, who had stood up when the hobbits came in. "Nothing yet. Aragorn and Gandalf are tending to Frodo and Sam."

"Where are Faramir and Eowyn?" asked Merry.

"I'm here." Eowyn answered. Again, everyone turned to the door. "No news of the hobbits." she answered to their silent request. "But hope is not lost." She said, her trust in Aragorn audible in her tone. She sat beside Eomer. "Aragorn and Mithrandir are a heady force."

Legolas agreed. 

"I suppose I'm the last one?" asked Faramir, looking tired. With a grunt of relief, he dropped into the last chair in the room. "I am sorry I was unable to give you a proper welcoming into the city."

Eomer, Legolas, Gimli, and the hobbits shook their heads. 

"Only lacking trumpets, brother." Boromir teased him, wanting to wait until they were alone before telling Faramir how heartening it had been to see him whole and sound, with a woman no less than Eowyn of Rohan beside him! 

"Indeed, seeing you and my sister as welcoming committee made the whole trek fade into proper perspective." Eomer chimed in, watching Eowyn. The seeds of thought Boromir had planted about Faramir and his sister sprouted when Eomer saw that Eowyn blushed. In a way, he hoped that his sister had found someone that she truly loved. He also hoped that Faramir was worthy of her love. That had yet to be seen.

"She has graced the walls of Minas Tirith with her presence, and many men would have died were it not for her gentle aid." Faramir said softly, hoping his voice didn't betray his feelings for Eowyn. The only thing hampering him from asking Eomer then and there for permission to court Eowyn was the knowledge that death waited in the next room should Aragorn and Gandalf fail. 

Try as he might, he could not fathom their failure.

Taken by surprise, Eomer gripped Eowyn's arm. He had never imagined that Eowyn would ever be remotely interested in healing. "Healing, Eowyna?" he asked.

Her blush deepening, she answered, "Lord Faramir has taught me much."

"_That settles it_," thought Eomer, noticing Faramir's downcast eyes. "_There is definitely something between these two_."

Boromir's eyes twinkled merrily at seeing Eomer's consternation and Faramir and Eowyn's embarrassment. 

To break the awkward silence, Eomer spoke again. "Then I am glad." How he hoped that Faramir was serious about her! 


	19. Chapter 19

With many thanks to my reviewers.

* * *

Aragorn was glad to see that the darkness was now much removed. He was in a frigid grove of trees dimly lit by moonlight. Senses honed from years of living as a Ranger told him that something evil lurked in the cover of the trees, some wild spirit. Cautiously, Aragorn searched for Frodo. Walking among the trees, he came suddenly upon a clearing. There he found Frodo, sitting huddled against a tree, his cheek resting on his drawn-up knees. He was transparent, almost gone, almost dead.

_Frodo!_ Aragorn called.

Frodo looked up at Aragorn's approach, his eyes widening slightly.

_Aragorn? _he said.

_I'm here, Frodo._

_Look. _Frodo said, accepting his unexpected appearance.

Following his nod, Aragorn watched a dark clearing at the side of the forest.

He saw nothing.

_Concentrate! _insisted Frodo.

Aragorn gazed deeper. The very heart of the darkness seemed to pulse and waver. A cold chill swept over Aragorn as, slowly, faint silvery lines materialized in a ghostly imitation of the Doors of Durin.

Steadily, the figure, for so it was, walked toward them. Falling moonlight struck a pale face.

A face that Aragorn had loved of old, and yet mourned for.

_Theoden!_

A kindly smile graced the face of Theoden King.

_It is good to see you, Aragorn._

Aragorn knelt, tears falling down his face. Theoden grasped Aragorn's shoulder, pulling him up. To Aragorn's surprise, Theoden's arm was solid and steady.

_You have done well, my Lord!_ _Yet there is one thing more you must do!_

Aragorn lifted his head, watching Theoden.

_Take him from here quickly! _Theoden said, nodding at Frodo before turning and disappearing from sight before anyone could say anything.

Frodo stared in amazement. _Many have come, but few have spoken to me, Aragorn._ _Who is he? _

_A valiant king who died in the battle to retake Minas Tirith. _Aragorn said, still watching the space where Theoden had so recently stood. _He was my friend, and Merry's friend, too._

_Merry? _Sudden remembrance flashed in the hobbit's eyes. _He was Merry's friend?_

Aragorn nodded. _The entire Fellowship waits for you. Will you not come back with me and see them?_

_No, Aragorn. There is no leaving here._

_What is this place?_ Aragorn asked.

_This is the Forest of the Dead. It is guarded by one who will not open the gate. You too, must be dead, killed by some Orc or Troll or Sauron himself. It doesn't matter anymore. Tomorrow I will be at peace. I will be dead. _Frodo said, a longing light in his eyes.

_Frodo, I came here of my own free will. I came to bring you to life. _

_What now is there for me in life, Aragorn? What is there to bring me back? It is peaceful here. The Guardian keeps me safe._

_Who is this Guardian of whom you speak? _asked Aragorn.

_He is Death Lurking. _Frodo said.

_I am not so bold as to say that I know aught of death but that here is a fearsome, clutching death. Frodo, those who long for death do not find peace in it when it comes, _Aragorn said, willing Frodo to understand his words.

_My time for death is come, Aragorn. Tell me why should I go with you back to life?_

_For Sam, Frodo._

Frodo shook his head sadly, getting up and walking toward the clearing that Theoden had come from. _That isn't enough, Aragorn. _

_Wait! Wait here. Do not go. Wait for me here. I will show you why you should come with me. _Aragorn had an idea.

_I will wait, Aragorn. But hurry. Tomorrow I am gone, _Frodo said.

"NO!" Aragorn's fierce shout made Gandalf jump.

"Aragorn! What is it?" Gandalf asked.

"Get me Merry and Pippin. And Faramir! Quickly, there is no time!" Aragorn said, his voice full of desperation and a wild energy. His weariness forgotten, he sprung for the door, nearly running into Faramir, checking to see the cause of Aragorn's shout.

"My apologies, Faramir! I need you!" Aragorn said.

"I'm here, Aragorn! What can I do?" Faramir said, picking up on the anxiety in Aragorn's voice.

"Frodo refuses to come back unless I show him good proof why he should return. Do you know anything of healing?" Aragorn said.

"Yes!"

"Can you go into a Healer's trance?" Aragorn asked intently.

Faramir nodded. "Yes, I can."

"Good! Now where are Merry and Pippin?"

"The Halflings? Are they able to do it?"

"I do not know, but they are different from Men, Faramir, and they have a close bond with Frodo. I think they'll be able to help." Aragorn answered.

"I'll ward them." offered Gandalf.

"Thank you. That would be best." Aragorn said, sagging against the wall, his energy gone.

"Room opposite. You stay here, I'll get them." Faramir said, taking in the pallor of Aragorn's face and the extreme weariness in his eyes. Gandalf lent Aragorn an arm for support as they walked back to the room.

Faramir ran across the corridor. "Merry! Pippin!" he called as soon as he was within earshot. "Come quickly! Frodo has need of you!"

"Is he awake?" Merry said, hope in his voice as he trotted to keep up with Faramir's lengthy strides.

"No, and he will not unless Aragorn manages to persuade him. Now hurry, Aragorn will tell you what to do!" Faramir said.

Aragorn sighed with relief when he saw the trio. "Gandalf, would you?" he said.

With a nod, Gandalf raised his staff toward the hobbits. Gandalf's characteristic white flash blinded everyone momentarily.

"What was that?" Pippin and Merry yelled in accord.

"I warded you. Now pay attention to what Aragorn has to say!"

"Merry, Pippin," Aragorn said, his voice harsh in spite of himself. "What I need you to do will sound odd, but as you love Frodo, do your best. Each of you take one of his hands in your own. Close your eyes, and let yourself _sink_ into Frodo's mind. Do not fall prey to doubt!"

"Sink?" asked Merry, clearly puzzled.

"Yes." Aragorn's face softened. "I believe that Hobbits have a closer bond with each other, especially you four, than do men with each other. Try to think like Frodo, try hard! When you see him, in your mind's eye, you will have succeeded. Gandalf has warded you, so do not be afraid!"

They nodded, Pippin first, then Merry. Tenderly, Gandalf laid a hand on their shoulders. "You'll be fine."

Breathing deeply, Aragorn looked at the faces of those with him. Merry and Pippin were nervous, but their faith in him shone in their eyes. Faramir was steady, his face immobile. "We are with you, my King!" he said, catching Aragorn's eye. Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement, smiling softly. As before, he placed his hand on Frodo's head. Faramir laid a gentle hand on Frodo's shoulder. Unsure of himself, Faramir hesitated before clasping Aragorn's shoulder with his other hand. Faramir felt the tense muscles clench fleetingly before relaxing. A hint of wonder in his eyes, Aragorn smiled a wide, genuine smile at Faramir, very grateful for his support. Merry and Pippin were silent, waiting. With a final deep breath, Aragorn closed his eyes and found Frodo, still where he left him, his back against the tree in the cold forest. Aragorn sat down beside him.

Faramir came moments later. They sensed him before they saw him; Frodo thought he smelled a faint mustiness, pleasantly reminiscent of old books, before Faramir appeared, walking into the glade from the same path Aragorn did. The moonlight played in the crannies and crevices of his face as he walked, deepening the shadows and changing his features until the blood of Numenor shone pure in his eyes and noble bearing. He came dressed in a dark blue velvet tunic, the White Tree and Seven Stars shining mithril-soft from his chest. His sword hung from his belt. Stifling an unexpected compulsion to bow, Aragorn nodded at Faramir, who did bow.

When Faramir first saw Aragorn in the glade, he had to force himself to keep from kneeling down and touching his forehead to the floor, so great a king of men as Aragorn appeared. Even the shadowy canopy of the trees could not dim the light of Aragorn's gracious bearing, the heritage of his lordly ancestors evident in the clear, light eyes and high, noble brow.

His lord was dressed similar to himself; the White Tree emblazoned on his black tunic, the herald of light into the darkness. The Evenstar around his neck, silver glowing against black, was a pointed reminder of the tidal strength of the love of Aragorn and Arwen; like the Alliance of Men and Elves in the first war, the two strengthened each other, as did Beren and Luthien, their ancestors. In the light of love no darkness could stand.

Once more, Faramir determined that he would do his utmost to bring Frodo back to free life. Bowing, he was about to sit on the other side of Frodo when something…_two_ somethings…crashed into his back, sending him crashing headfirst into Aragorn's sitting form. Faramir was up, and his sword drawn, before he realized Aragorn was still sitting down, chuckling breathlessly.

Merry and Pippin stood before them, a light in their eyes as they realized that they had made it, they had sunk into Frodo as Aragorn had told them to.

Frodo sat still, a pained look in his eyes as he stretched his arms soundlessly to his cousins. Seeing him quickly, they knelt down and embraced Frodo, the three of them shedding tears. They had missed each other.

_Will you come, Frodo? _Faramir's voice came quiet from the dark. _I told you that I would you had met me in better days, that I might show you what sort of man I am in honor and in peace!_

_I know what sort of man you are, Captain Faramir. The very finest, and one that Aragorn and Gondor love greatly, _Frodo answered.

Faramir blinked at the praise. _That is high praise, Frodo. What I meant was that I should enjoy sitting with you before a fire, sharing some hot drink, and hearing you speak of life in the Shire, where gardeners are held in such high esteem. I would listen, and speak, and write, that our sons may know of the people of the Shire, and the materials they hold most dear, that we might know for what it is we live. I would have you live, Frodo, and not die!_

Frodo nodded, closing his eyes as if wearied beyond belief. Aragorn worried that time was running short.

_Er, Strider? _Still arm in arm with Frodo, Merry spoke. _Can we…can we talk, here? Do you hear us?_

Aragorn nodded. _Speak freely, friends. We hear you._

That settled, they turned to Frodo, determined to persuade him to return to life.

_Frodo, please come back, _Pippin said. _The war's over. The Shire calls. It's spring again, you know. The fields will be green again, and the girls romping with flowers in their hair. The cows will be grazing under the Party Tree, and Rosie will be waiting for Sam. Come back with us!_

_I can't, Pip, _answered Frodo thickly. _I am tired, so tired! There is no happiness left for me, and yet I am desperate. I'll not be able to fend for myself for a long time, am I to come back with you._

_We'll take care of you, Frodo, _answered Merry through his tears. _Bound by bonds of love, remember, cousin? We'll take care of you._

Answering tears sprung to Frodo's eyes. _Will you, my cousins?_ His tone softened. They yet did not know of sorrow. Of tiredness so deep that their bones shook with an aching weariness. They had not heard the call of the Ring.

Yet perhaps therein lay his greatest hope of return. Innocence and purity he had lost, yet to be among those who still had it gave him hope.

His cousins nodded. _We will, Frodo._

_As will Gondor's finest, _said Faramir, Aragorn nodding, his eyes fixed on Frodo.

Taking a deep breath, Frodo looked up at the two Men. _Then I will come._

_Thank you, Frodo. _Aragorn said gently. _Come quickly then, all of you, for dawn draws near. _He said, pointing toward the tendrils of light coming over the horizon. _Hold hands, everyone, and pull out of here. Take a deep breath, close your eyes and 'think' yourself back. Faramir and I will help you. _

The dark forest faded away, the evil presence sinking into the depths of history. When they opened their eyes they were back in the small room in the Houses of Healing, Frodo sleeping soundly in the bed. Gandalf caught the hobbits as they nearly fell, utterly wearied from their work. Using the bed and any nearby furniture, Aragorn and Faramir hoisted themselves to their feet. With a shared grin, they pulled closer and leaned on each other, too weary to support themselves.

"Thank you." Aragorn said. "Your support is invaluable."

"Do you mean now or then?" answered Faramir, his eyes twinkling.

"Both!"

They stumbled out of the door together.

_Today, _thought Faramir. _Today, life is good. _

Let me know what you think. This chapter through the next couple of chapters, until Frodo is healed, were insanely hard to write. Thanks.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

Many, many thanks to my reviewers! Four reviews! I haven't gotten that many since the second chapter! Bless you!

Here's a chapter I think you'll enjoy; it's a really joyful one.

* * *

Though it was late, no one was asleep yet. All waited for news of the Halflings.

Low chuckling brought answering smiles to the faces of the group holding vigil in the room opposite. Springing to the door, Eomer and Boromir caught Aragorn and Faramir before they toppled over with exhaustion. Gandalf followed, a hobbit in each arm. The content, happy smiles on their faces answered all questions. The hobbits lived.

The war was truly over.

Faramir tugged at Boromir, spoiling the moment. "Aragorn's room is over there," he gestured vaguely down the Hall. "Merry and Pippin share a room opposite his. And I want to sit."

A grin on his face, Boromir led Faramir to the couch as Gandalf, bowing, took the hobbits to their room, Legolas and Gimli following. Eomer and Aragorn began walking down the corridor—

"Wait." Faramir hesitated. "Lord Eomer, will you return here, please, when you have finished?"

Having his suspicions, Eomer only just managed to keep a look of apprehension from crossing his face. He nodded tersely, not quite trusting himself to keep a steady voice, and trailed behind Aragorn.

Boromir gazed at his brother, waiting for Faramir to speak first. "Boromir, I…found the woman I want to marry."

"Eowyn?"

Faramir nodded.

"Are you sure?"

Faramir's beaming smile broke through the weariness in his face and crowned it with happiness. Boromir laughed. "Never mind, that's obvious." He said, smirking. "So you're going to ask him now? You don't think that this is the best time?"

"Yes, it is the best time. Eomer will ask her if that is what she wants, and she will agree, and when she seems me tomorrow and smiles the dawn will break anew, spreading rays that cannot match her in beauty."

Nearing footfalls heralded Eomer's return. Boromir squeezed his brother's shoulder and left the room, nodding to Eomer as he passed.

Eomer sat next to Faramir.

"My Lord Eomer," said Faramir, standing and swaying lightly on his feet before the King of Rohan. "I ask your permission to court Lady Eowyn."

In spite of himself, Eomer stared. So Boromir was right, they were in love.

"I love Eowyn, but I did not want our courtship to be overshadowed by the loss of the Halflings. As Frodo and Sam now live, I didn't want to waste any more time. I told her I would ask you if you came back." Faramir continued.

"And if I hadn't, what then? What if we had failed?"

Faramir met his gaze steadily. "If you and the others had not returned, Eowyn and I would have died side by side, protecting those under us."

Therein did Eomer see why Eowyn might love this man; he judged her his equal. He would not hold her back. In war he would not hold her back—but there was no war.

Then it would be all right. Eowyn would come to no harm by wedding Faramir. If she loved him then Eomer would not demur. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Eomer felt a slow smile spreading over his face. "Then may you find happiness with my sister, Faramir of Gondor! I will speak with her, and does she truly desire this, I will give my blessing."

"I thank you." said Faramir, his eyes glowing despite his attempts to look suitably serious. "I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Sleep well, Faramir." Eomer walked out, belatedly remembering to lend an arm to Faramir for support.

"Valar," he thought. "I'm to have a brother-in-law. Which room, Faramir," he asked.

"Opposite yours." answered Faramir, completely drained of energy.

A few minutes slow tread brought them to Faramir's room, where Boromir sat waiting before a crackling fire, the door open in anticipation of their advent. Taking Faramir's arm, Boromir grinned at Eomer. "Well?" he asked.

"You were right." Eomer replied. "He just asked me. And yes, I did agree. The war's over, after all. Eowyn should have some happiness."

Boromir threw his head back and laughed before turning serious. "I'm glad," he told Eomer.

Chuckling, Eomer dipped his head and turned to leave. "He might not be, before too long!" he said as he walked across to his room.

Faramir snorted his derision to Eomer's retreating back.

"So it's settled then." Boromir said. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. But if you'll forgive me, brother, I'm going to fall asleep presently." Faramir said, pulling his boots off. Boromir helped with his jerkin and tunic.

"Sleep well, brother." Boromir said, leaving the room as Faramir slipped between the sheets.

……

Aragorn was awake, though he didn't really want to be. He had slept long, judging from the midday light streaming in from the window. Getting out of bed, he groaned as sore, tight muscles creaked. Well, he'd go check on the hobbits and then come back for a bath. That would ease a tired body. Briefly, he thought of his companions. Doubtless Eomer and Legolas were fine but Gimli and Boromir…Perhaps he shouldn't go there. Smiling, he washed his face and dressed before going to see Frodo and Sam.

In a short while, Aragorn reached their room. Gandalf kept watch over the two, sitting in an easy chair at the foot of the bed. He smiled when he saw Aragorn. "They are doing well." He said quietly. "Earlier, I thought Sam was waking, but he fell asleep again. The color is returning to his cheeks, and Frodo is warm and comfortable."

Kneeling beside the bed, Aragorn nodded, his eyes intent on the Hobbits. They had taken too much strain to be quite out of the woods yet, especially Frodo, but they were on their way. Shuddering, Aragorn remembered the horrible struggle that they had gone through to bring Frodo back safely. Gandalf placed a reassuring hand on Aragorn's shoulder.

"It is over, Aragorn," he said.

Aragorn met Gandalf's eyes.

"Was it that terrible, Aragorn?" Gandalf asked, full of love and compassion.

Aragorn nodded slowly. "When I found him, he was almost transparent, Gandalf. His eyes…there was grief in them that I never hoped to see in anyone's eyes."

"Where did you find him?" Gandalf's tone was suddenly urgent.

"He called it…The Forest of the Dead." Aragorn answered thickly, as if remembering through a haze.

Gandalf stiffened. "Yes, I remember that place. I passed through it after I fell, in Moria. The people I saw!"

"Theoden was there."

"Was he? Was he, indeed? What did he say?"

"To take him from here quickly." Aragorn said, nodding at Frodo.

Gandalf closed his eyes, nodding in silent thanks. Whether Theoden could see it Aragorn did not know, but he could have sworn he felt a wind fan his face. Gandalf only chuckled.

"Go back to bed, Aragorn. You look rather like you could use some more sleep. Or at least a bath." Gandalf said.

Aragorn dipped his head before heading back to his room. A bath would be nice.

Suddenly eager to see Boromir and the others, Aragorn didn't stay long in the bath. Dressing quickly, he made his way to the Great Hall, where servers were beginning to put the noon meal on the tables. People were just beginning to enter through the doors.

"Strider!" "Hoi, Aragorn!" Two perky, familiar voices made Aragorn grin.

"Merry! Pippin! I knew you'd be here!" Aragorn said.

Merry frowned meditatively. "I think he knows us too well, Pippin, what do you think?"

"I do believe you're right!" Pippin answered.

They managed to hold their frowns for only a few moments before they dissolved into cheeky laughter. Aragorn joined in, enjoying a chance to laugh again. As he did so he felt so many cares and troubles ease away from his mind.

The War was truly over, and Aragorn son of Arathorn had finally come Home.

Legolas joined the three, smiling radiant happiness by the light of his smile. He inclined his head toward Aragorn in reverence. As Aragorn clasped his friend's shoulder, Gimli barreled in, heading straight toward them. "Good! You're up. Took you long enough." He told Aragorn.

Aragorn agreed. "Yes, it was, but I thought I would sleep far longer."

Gimli took a long, appraising look at him. "Well, you do look still tired yet. But eat and then you can get back to bed." Gimli said.

"Frodo and Sam?" Legolas asked.

"They are mending well. They should be up by no later than tomorrow." Aragorn answered.

"Tomorrow?" Merry and Pippin chorused.

"I'm glad." A deep voice boomed from behind them. Eomer smiled.

"It is good to see you, Aragorn." He said, a refreshed, rested look in his eyes. "We feared for the lot of you yestereve."

Then they all heard it in the sudden lull – a sturdy tramp coming nearer. Boromir's tramping footsteps. Instinctively, Aragorn turned around and headed for Boromir.

Boromir enveloped Aragorn in a bear-like embrace. "My King!" he said.

"My Prince."

"You look awful." Boromir said after a short pause, pulling away from Aragorn.

Staggered, Aragorn could only stare at Boromir, chortling and then laughing outright, a rich sound that had everybody chuckling along with them, understanding the joke since Legolas had shared it as they waited the night before.

"Awful, do I? Humph." Aragorn said, still smiling. "Even after a bath and long hours of rest?"

"You missed a spot," announced Pippin solemnly, setting everyone to chuckling again until Boromir spoke.

"Look. Here they come." he said, nodding towards Faramir and Eowyn coming in arm in arm through the doors. Eowyn was blushing with happiness, a contented smile on her face. Faramir looked as though someone had stunned him with a poleaxe, and the only thing keeping him on his feet was Eowyn's soft touch on his arm. Boromir turned lightly mocking eyes toward Eomer, who only smiled.

"He asked me last night, so tired he could hardly stand, declaring his love for Eowyn. I thought he had lost his wits with weariness until he acknowledged Eowyn as his equal, and I saw why Eowyn loved him. She lit up when I told her this morning. They'll be happy." Eomer said.

Aragorn grinned. He had suspected, last night, when Faramir had asked for Eomer to return after he had led Aragorn to his room.

As the two approached, Aragorn was suddenly reminded of Arwen and the dreams he had cherished of her in his arms. The dreams he still cherished, not knowing whether his beloved yet stayed in Middle-earth or went to Valinor. Sighing, Aragorn firmly shoved these thoughts to the back of his mind as they stepped nearer.

"Eowyn and I are to be married." Faramir said simply, quietly, steady confidence radiating from his eyes.

"Wish me joy, my liege lord and healer!" Eowyn added, meeting Aragorn's gaze.

"I have wished you joy since first I saw you, Eowyn." Aragorn answered. "It heals my heart to see you thus."

"Well now, lady, I add my congratulations. Be happy, the two of you." Gimli said.

"With the wedding of the Heart of Gondor and the White Lady of Rohan Spring will return to this land! Live well, my friends!" Legolas said, bowing deeply.

Merry smiled at the blushing Faramir and Eowyn. "Yes it will," he agreed. "I have no great words to say but these, Lord and Lady. The Hobbits of the Shire, down to the children, will know Faramir, and Eowyn, and the great lords of today, and you will always be welcome in the Shire. We will wait for your coming, and promise to throw you a party that will not soon be forgotten!"

"Before the Fellowship was separated, we used to tell tales, sometimes, and all of Boromir's tales were of one person, his Little Brother Faramir, with his nose in a book and a pen in his hand. So the blessing of the Brandybucks is this to you: May your poems be well-rhymed, your library well-stocked, and your shadows well-fed!" Pippin added.

"Thank you, my friends!" Faramir said, grinning.

"Hem! Did I miss something?" Gandalf asked, a twinkle in his eyes belaying the question. Taking Eowyn's and Faramir's hands in his, Gandalf met her eyes. "I am so glad. It is time for you to be whole, and at peace, and content. Live well indeed!"

Blushing furiously, Eowyn smiled. "I am very happy." She said.

"We'll be happier once we're fed!" Merry and Pippin chorused. Roaring with laughter, everyone headed toward the tables.

Aragorn dropped to the back, waiting for Gandalf. Gandalf spoke before Aragorn could get a word. "Ioreth is with them. I think the old woman will be glad to get off her feet a while. I'll go back after we eat."

"No, I will." Aragorn said.

Gandalf nodded. "Aragorn, one thing more. Your coronation?"

Aragorn muffled a gasp, unprepared for Gandalf's words. "Not yet!"


	21. Chapter 21

**The next day…**

The first one stirred…

Gandalf waited for Sam to wake fully…

Moments later, Sam opened his eyes, focusing in his confusion on the ceiling.

Where was he?

What a frightful dream that was! How glad he was to wake! Goodness!...

"You are in Minas Tirith, in Gondor, Samwise Gamgee."

There was something distinctly queer about that voice, no more the less because it was…

"Gandalf!"

The Istari nodded, smiling as the Hobbit's eyes grew wide in remembrance of all that had happened since they saw each other last. Immediately he looked toward the sleeping Frodo, picking up his wounded hand carefully. "Will he be all right?" Sam asked.

"Yes, Sam, he will get well." Gandalf said.

Sam relaxed back into the pillows. "That's all right, then. But…the others?"

"They are all well. No one died, you needn't fear."

"Strider…" Sam looked up at Gandalf, confused. "He _did _come. Didn't he? I…he was there, when things were so terrible?"

"He brought you back, Sam." Gandalf said. "But close your eyes again, Samwise the Faithful, and rest. Frodo will be fine." He continued, his tone mock-stern though he did not quite succeed in wiping the grin off his face.

Sam laughed. "It's good to see you, Gandalf." He said, closing his eyes, dipping suddenly back into sleep.

……

When Frodo began to stir Gandalf did something he very rarely did. He mind-spoke to the Fellowship and Faramir. _"Come quickly, friends. Frodo wakes."_

Helping in the rebuilding of the City, Aragorn and Legolas nearly dropped the heavy stone they were carrying when they heard Gandalf's call. Gimli, directing the building efforts, stopped mid-sentence and began smiling and chuckling in relief.

Merry and Pippin were in the Gardens, doing their part in the rebuilding by reshaping the fruit trees and vegetables and clearing debris. The moment they heard Gandalf they took off in a wordless run toward the Houses of Healing.

In the libraries, Faramir was poring over an old scroll, studying the foundations of the City and creating blueprints for Her repair. A slow smile spread over his face as he heard Gandalf's call. Frodo woke. Their work was rewarded.

Visiting the wounded Men in one of the Houses, Boromir turned suddenly pensive when he heard Gandalf. Frodo woke. With a heavy tread, he walked to the House in which Frodo lay waiting…

He was awake, Frodo realized, rather absent-mindedly. Bother! He didn't really want to be, not from such a peaceful sleep. Ah, well. Gollum would probably come and bother them with his mindless driv—Wait.

Gollum was dead, the Ring gone.

Then was he dead? He was warm, at any rate. Gingerly, he opened his eyes, focusing gradually on something white and blurred and…Frodo blinked. "Gandalf?" He asked when the apparition did not disappear.

"I'm here, my boy!" Gandalf said, his eyes bright with tears.

Waking, Sam gasped at Frodo. "Mr. Frodo! You're awake!"

Frodo gaped. "Am I?" he asked.

Gandalf began to laugh. "See for yourself," he said, gesturing towards the two hobbits peeping through the door.

Frodo's face brightened. "Merry! Pippin!" Without a second thought, the two jumped on the bed, frolicking and jumping even as Frodo hugged them tightly, only letting go when Aragorn strolled through the door.

"You have been in the keeping of the King." Gandalf said.

"Yes, I know." Frodo answered, looking gratefully up at Aragorn. "Thank you." he said, his tone expressing much more than the simple words. Aragorn bowed his head.

Legolas and Gimli strode in next, Gimli laughing his short, barking laugh, raising his hands above his head and chortling in glee.

Boromir waited just outside Frodo's room, anxious, fiddling with the strappings on his tunic. Faramir, breathing hard after climbing up flights upon flights of stairs, found Boromir there.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, knowing the answer.

"I…Courage." Boromir said abruptly.

"He waits for you." Faramir replied.

"I raised my hand against him, Faramir! What if I hurt him too badly? What if he still fears me?" Boromir said, the words coming in a rush.

"He waits for you," Faramir repeated. "I quizzed him at Henneth Annun, brother. He holds no grudge. Will you come?"

Suddenly, Frodo's voice floated thinly from the doorway. "And…the others? Boromir and Faramir? Are they well?…"

Faramir looked at Boromir, waiting his answer.

"Go!" Boromir said. "I'll come."

Faramir walked over.

"Faramir!" came Frodo's overjoyed call. In spite of himself, Boromir smiled. He was pleased to hear the delight in Frodo's voice. In the ensuing mumble of conversation Boromir caught a snippet – "the very finest, sir." Sam said.

Well, that was that, then. Boromir felt resigned rather than hurt. They were happy together, they did not need hi—

"But where is Boromir? He _does _live, does he not? Why doesn't he come?" Again Frodo's slight voice came from within the room, a note of worry creeping into his tone.

Boromir stifled an unexpected gasp at hearing Frodo's plaintive voice asking for him. Moments later, Faramir, Merry, and Pippin strode out the door.

"He's waiting for you, Boromir." Pippin said impatiently.

Merry nodded. "He wants to see you."

Faramir, his arms crossed over his chest, waited.

Swallowing back his trepidation, Boromir steeled himself and walked in, Merry and Pippin half-dragging him along. Boromir flinched as he met Frodo's gaze, still expecting dismay, or fear, or embarrassment in the careworn hobbit's features.

There was nothing but love. Try as hard as he might, he could not see a hint of reproach in Frodo's eyes. In a sudden bound, he crossed the room and knelt at Frodo's side, taking Frodo's hands and hugging them to his chest. "I'm so sorry!" he said, a sheen of tears over his eyes as he bent over Frodo's arms. So gently, Frodo pulled his unhurt hand from Boromir's grasp. Tipping Boromir's chin upwards, he brushed the hair out of Boromir's eyes, so that green eyes met blue.

"Boromir, my dear friend!" Frodo said. "Peace. _I understand, now._"

Feeling rather ashamed for thinking about his sword, Sam reached out and placed a hand on Boromir's shoulder, Aragorn following suit.

"The Fellowship is reunited." Gandalf said, his gaze resting approvingly on Boromir.

"I'm so glad!" Frodo said fervently.

"Yes," thought Boromir. "I am too."

……

**The next day…**

Aragorn caught up with Boromir and Faramir at the breakfast table. "May I sit with you?" he asked.

His mouth full, Boromir waved his hand at a seat, indicating that Aragorn should sit. Faramir filled in for him. "Have a seat."

"Thank you." Aragorn said, seeming somewhat ill at ease.

"Aragorn?" Faramir said. "Something troubles you?"

He took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about the Stewardship." Aragorn said.

The brothers nodded. "What about it?" asked Boromir, darting a glance at Faramir.

"Boromir would be Steward next, I believe." Aragorn said, looking at Boromir.

"Yes." Faramir answered, puzzled. "He is the eldest."

"Then what of Faramir?" Aragorn asked intently, transferring his gaze to Faramir.

"I—" Faramir shrugged. "I stay Captain of the Rangers."

"Aragorn," Boromir broke in. "I—"

Aragorn cut in over Boromir's words. "And if I were to ask both of you to be Stewards? One to be Captain-General…" here he looked at Boromir again, "and the other to take care of courtly duties?" he continued, gazing at Faramir. "I know nothing of ruling, and want you both by my side."

Boromir grinned, and Faramir felt a painful blush creep up his neck. He was the first to speak. "Ah…Boromir and I discussed that many times, and—"

"And I wanted him to be Steward with me."

Aragorn grinned. "You'll do it, then? Boromir and Faramir as Stewards?"

Boromir agreed without a moment's hesitation. Faramir delayed his reply.

"Faramir?" Boromir asked.

"I…have a post, already, that I'm not sure if it is right for me to leave."

"Appoint Romin in your place." Boromir offered.

Faramir looked at him. "I suppose I could?"

"Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, right?" Aragorn asked, his disappointment masked in his admiration of the younger man.

Faramir nodded, still somewhere in his memories. "May I have a few days? I will speak with my Rangers and see what they suggest."

"Of course." Aragorn said. "Though if it is any incentive, the Rangers will not have to go for long excursions into Ithilien anymore, for Ithilien will blossom again, and protect herself.

Faramir nodded again thoughtfully.

……

The guards didn't see the Elf that slipped in with the Rohirrim caravan going through the gates. Making sure that his hooded cloak covered the tips of his ears, Glorfindel of Rivendell set off to find Legolas, to…orchestrate--something.

He sighed. Of course, the first one he'd come across would be the Dwarf. And of course, the Dwarf had to recognize him and come up to him.

"Well, Elf?" Gimli prodded.

Was that…a _smile_…on Gimli's face? Glorfindel felt his eyebrows go up. No, it was just passing light. Yes, that was what it was.

"Valar…" he breathed. Well, nothing for it. He'd have to spill. "Master Gimli, if you tell Estel I'm here Elrond will trounce me for an idiot."

"Aren't you one already?" Gimli said.

Glorfindel bristled, thinking that Gimli meant offense, but the twinkle in the Dwarf's eyes belied the insult. Glorfindel cocked his head at him. "You have changed." He hazarded.

"You've no idea." Gimli said, chuckling. "But I'm more in my element here, in this City of Stone, and what's more, you've never done any harm. I have no argument with you, Elf."

Glorfindel gaped.

Gimli sighed. "Let it rest at that, if you please. Aren't you lot supposed to go around in droves? If there's one, more are sure to follow? That sort of thing?"

"What? Er, yes. Legolas. I have to find Legolas. El—You swear not to tell?"

Gimli nodded, recognition dawning in his eyes.

"The lords and ladies of the three Elven realms are coming to Gondor. Elrond and _Arwen_ of Rivendell, Celeborn and Galadriel of Lothlorien, and Thranduil of Mirkwood. They follow two days behind, and will stay out of sight until the coronation. I was sent to scout ahead to see when it will take place so that Elrond may present Arwen to Aragorn on the day of his coronation."

It was Gimli's turn to gape. "Galadriel?" he asked, his tone hushed. "She comes? And Arwen?"

With sudden insight, Glorfindel studied the Dwarf. A slow, appraising smile dawned on the Elf's face as he understood Gimli's change of heart to the Elves. "You see why I need Legolas?"

Gimli looked at him as though seeing him for the first time. "Legolas? Yes…Legolas. Ah, he's in the Second Level. Follow me." Gimli took off, muttering absently to himself, Glorfindel alongside him, to find Legolas and construct a plan.

* * *

Ladies and gentlemen, I have a challenge to pose. This story has only three chapters left, and 41 reviews. Can this story get 50 reviews by the time I say _finis_? Please? Only three reviews per chapter.


	22. Chapter 22

WOOT!! 51 reviews! I don't know how that happened, but a bunch of new people logged on and reviewed chapter 1. AND I got four reviews for the last chapter. Thank you thank you! Can I get the same for this chapter? Please? :-) Anyways, on with the show.

Dedicated to szepilona for being the most faithful reviewer.

**Four days later, before dawn on Aragorn's coronation day…**

"_Tap, tap, tap, tap."_

Back and forth, back and forth.

"_Tap, tap, tap, tap."_

In both rooms, no less.

Cocooned in thick blankets, Boromir woke slowly to the sound of Aragorn and Faramir pacing in their rooms, one on each side of Boromir's.

Exasperated, Boromir threw the covers off and got out of bed. After putting his clothes on, he went to Faramir's room, knocking thrice before pushing the door open.

"Little brother, what's wrong?" he asked.

Faramir looked at him. "I'm sorry, Mir, I woke you."

"Well, Aragorn is pacing on the other side. I'll go to him after I find out what's wrong with you. Have you slept at all?"

"Hm?" Faramir mumbled. "Oh. No, I don't think so."

"Hang it, Mir, what's wrong?" Boromir demanded.

"I haven't given Aragorn an answer yet."

"You haven't? Well, did you speak to Romin and the others?" Boromir asked.

"Of course. Romin looked staggered, then picked himself up and began queening it for the rest. Everyone else crowded round and clapped me on the back and said that they were happy for me and that I deserved it." Faramir answered.

"But you feel bad deserting them." Boromir said, understanding finally his brother's emotions.

Faramir nodded. "Yes."

"Would it make you feel better to stay with them?"

"That's the problem, no it wouldn't."

Boromir sighed. "Well, Aragorn did say that they wouldn't be going far, or at least not for long. If I may, Faramir, you are better suited for Stewardship rather than fighting. Or do both – go with the Rangers on some of their traps. I can pick up for you. Besides which, you're getting married." Boromir offered, somewhat disjointedly.

"That's generous. But," he paused. "I think my path does lie with Aragorn."

"Does it?"

"Yes." Faramir said decisively. "It's time to move on." He said, meeting Boromir's eyes.

Boromir still saw some nervousness in Faramir's eyes, but there was resolve, too. "What makes you decide?" he asked.

"I think that with…with the end of the war that part of my life ends as well." answered Faramir.

Boromir nodded, then headed for the door. "Good. So you'll tell him."

"Yes. In fact," Faramir said, getting up. "I'll come with you now. Maybe I can help some way. And if it's good time, I'll tell him now."

Boromir squashed the thought that he'd probably do better at solving whatever troubled Aragorn than he himself could.

"Come on, then!" he replied, smiling.

Together, they walked to Aragorn's room. Placing his head near the door, Boromir could hear Aragorn's nervous pacing. He knocked.

The pacing stopped momentarily, and both the brothers heard the bolt slide from the lock A disheveled-looking Aragorn poked his head out of the door.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Boromir answered. "We heard you pacing."

"Oh." Aragorn paused, looking from one brother to another. "You…_both_ heard me?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"No, sorry. _I _heard you, and _he,_" Boromir inclined his head toward Faramir beside him. "…was pacing in the next room."

Aragorn sighed, moving into the room. "Sorry. Come in."

The last one in, Faramir closed the door behind him before turning around and unobtrusively observing the room. Judging from the state of upset the bed was in, Aragorn had tossed and turned before finally getting up and going to the balcony, as Faramir had done during his time in the Houses of Healing.

"What troubles you, my King?" queried Faramir.

"I do not know." Aragorn answered, moving out onto the balcony. Boromir and Faramir followed. "Snatches of dreams, memories, foresight. On some shore, watching Arwen sail away, her arms outstretched to me, only to turn and find her standing next to me. Seeing you, Boromir, pointing toward the Argonath as they crumbled, and Denethor lying dead on the banks of the Anduin. Seeing Eowyn mourning over Theoden, yet a child in her arms! Then a voice, a voice I know from some deep place, some forgotten memory, _layered, _as though many people were speaking to me at once, telling me that Elendil will come again to Gondor, and will rule with the Son of Gondor and the Son of Numenor. Then I saw Faramir and Eowyn standing at the forefront of the City, on the Walls, hand in hand, the wind streaming their hair behind them. Again I heard the voice, saying that Elendil and the Son of Gondor would breathe life again into the City, and the Son of Numenor would bring the heritage of kings back to the city."

"I think I understand some of it." Boromir said, his expression thoughtful. "Me pointing at the Argonath and my father dead – I think that's to say that the old ways have passed. A new Age of Middle-earth is at hand. Elendil – that's easy. That's you, Elendil's heir. Eowyn and her child is definitely foresight; I know I can claim a niece or nephew soon enough." He continued, nodding at Faramir, who smiled happily.

"_Envinyatar, _Renewer!" Faramir said. "I understand. The layered voice is Gondor; she has spoken often to me in my dreams. Boromir is the Son of Gondor, and I the Son of Numenor. Eowyn and I waited for your return together, on the Walls of the City. When the power of Baradur was broken under your leaderships the sun shone, and the clean wind heralding your return did indeed send our hair mingling behind us in the wind. It was then Eowyn and I pledged ourselves." Faramir paused, then bowed on his knee before his King. "Aragorn, I will be your Steward, and gladly do the work you give me! I will bring the heritage of kings back to our City, and do all in my strength to help Minas Tirith reclaim her standing as the City of Kings!" Faramir finished happily, a deeply content look on his face.

Boromir nodded, following Faramir's example. "I will be your Captain-General, Aragorn! It is my pleasure, it is our pleasure, to present to you your people, happy and at peace! It has been my humble privilege to guard this City for your rule! Enter into your heritage, and do not be afraid!"

Aragorn was moved nearly to tears. "My Princes, I am not going to take Gondor from under you! I dare not face the throne alone," he finished quietly.

Boromir shook his head. "Never alone, Lord! We are here!"

Faramir smiled. "You are Elendil." He said simply.

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn paused. "Estel!" he said. "Time and again, I have been proven wrong."

Boromir and Faramir stared at him, bewildered by the apparent change in conversation. "Care to elaborate, Aragorn?" Boromir asked.

"When Elrond gave me Anduril he said that he gave hope to men. I replied that I kept none for myself. Yet many times have you proven me wrong. I thank you."

Boromir sported a comically confused expression. "_You…_thank us? Aragorn, Gondor thanks you. The People, our People, that have lived and died under the Shadow thank you. The Children years hence will thank you. The Women thank you, for they can look forward to unbroken days of waking up with their husbands safe and whole beside them! Whatever service the sons of Denethor may provide you is little, too little compared to this."

Aragorn shook his head in disagreement. "There is no comparison, Boromir."

Silence fell, no one knowing what to say next. Finally Aragorn spoke. "Go back to bed, my friends. Rest easy, and I will see you later."

The brothers nodded, and left the room. Still, Aragorn felt unsatisfied and unready to go back to sleep, feeling a sudden longing for Arwen flaring in him. Steeling his jaw, Aragorn abruptly grabbed his cloak, and headed into the hall. The sunrise had often brought peace, perhaps it would this time as well!

Aragorn stopped momentarily at Boromir and Faramir's rooms, listening for any signs of stirring. Boromir was snoring. Stentoriously. Unexpectedly, Faramir's door opened.

"Aragorn? Something wrong?" he asked, startled.

Aragorn shook his head no. "I thought a gallop might help."

Faramir nodded. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, thank you," Aragorn said. "You'll have enough to do today without having to gallop with me."

Faramir nodded again. "Then excuse me while I get my brother to turn over and stop snoring."

Aragorn gestured flourishingly with his hand. "Be my guest!" he said, hints of laughter crinkling his eyes. "I'll be on my way."

* * *

By the way, I began posting a new story, _Children of Gondor. _It's another Boromir lives story. I am tremendously excited about it because in it Boromir gets married and goes with his wife to Rivendell, though, the journey there takes a while.

Oh, and just in case you're rolling your eyes over another mary-sue, Boromir's wife isn't the one who saves him. That role belongs rightfully to Aragorn. He ends up going to the gates of Mandos to save Boromir!


	23. Chapter 23

Brego sensed Aragorn's troubled emotions as Aragorn saddled him. Spurring him onward, Aragorn galloped toward the gates. As he approached the guards opened the gates, letting him pass through.

On the Pelennor fields, Aragorn let Brego take over. Within moments, the stallion's strides lengthened until he reached a full gallop.

Sunkissed, the fields looked splendid in the dawning light, but Aragorn didn't notice, enjoying the wind blowing in his face and calming his distressed soul. Miles passed ignored as Aragorn felt assured of himself again. Yes, he missed Arwen, but as he did not know, and was never likely to know, where she was, he would learn to go on. Even marry some one, though he would decide whom later. Now…Now it was enough that he would be crowned today. Thank Valar for Boromir and Faramir, he reflected. Sighing, he reined Brego in, realizing belatedly that he had a good deal of riding to do to get back to the city.

When he returned an hour later, Aragorn went to bed and slept, plunging deeply into an uneasy sleep before Gandalf came and woke him with a gentle shake of his shoulder. Sitting up, Aragorn rubbed his hand over his sleep-fuddled face.

Gandalf smiled at him. "It is very satisfying to see you and Boromir and Faramir where you should be, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded in agreement, a smile flashing on his face.

"Well, dress quickly." Gandalf said. "You'll be having many visitors before the coronation, and that's two hours off." With that, the Wizard took a step toward the door. His back still turned, he said, "Oh, and Aragorn? Look to the People."

Before Aragorn could ask any questions, Gandalf left. Look to the People? Riddles! Starting to dress, Aragorn heaved a sigh as he heard Gandalf's enigmatic words. Doubtless all would be resolved sooner or later.

Hardly had Aragorn finished pulling on his surcote when a knock sounded on the door.

"Enter," he called.

Eomer poked his head through the door. "Aragorn." He said.

Aragorn looked at him. "Come in," he said.

"Can't…the Rohirrim await muster. Just wanted to tell you that Rohan rejoices in the return of the High King." Eomer bowed his head gravely.

"The bonds of personal friendship yet hold, King Eomer, and will extend, I hope, to our people, until once again Gondorians will cherish the sons of Eorl as brothers."

"It is good, my brother!" Eomer said. "Rohan has not forgotten the kinship of old, and will reforge our abandoned links with pleasure!"

"I thank you. It is good indeed!"

Eomer bowed again sharply and left.

Frodo came moments later, his voice sounding timidly through the open door. "Aragorn? I hope I'm not intruding…"

"No, of course not, Frodo. Please, enter." Aragorn said, motioning for Frodo to sit.

Walking forward, Frodo sat next to Aragorn on the bed. A slow smile spread across his face as he regarded his friend. "We've come a long way," the Hobbit said.

"It's a long way from Bree." Aragorn concurred, dry humor coloring his tone.

"Aragorn?" Frodo said, suddenly seeming embarrassed.

"Yes, Frodo?"

"When we…when we were on the road I thought often of your words at Bree. You said that you hoped we would take to you for your own sake."

Aragorn nodded in recognizance.

"Well, I…The…" Frodo bit his lip. "All look to you now as King. Is that…what you meant?"

Aragorn shook his head. "No, though since I learned of my heritage I've made peace with the idea that I might be King. What I meant at Bree was that I wanted friends that weren't just warriors. Rivendell was that to me, once, when it was all I knew. When I left…things changed. I couldn't tell people who I was, for I was Hunted. Even as Chieftain of the Rangers, my kin, none but those closest to me knew how close was my claim to the throne. I served as a soldier in both Rohan and Gondor. No one there, no one, knew who I was. There was respect, companionship, and kinship, but not friendship."

"I understand." Frodo said. "But will that change now, as King?"

Aragorn shook his head again. "No."

Frodo nodded, a queer look on his face. "Boromir and Faramir would be friends with you."

Aragorn looked at him, remembering how they had come to him in his restlessness and inquired after him. "I know." he said. "I do not know how to befriend them properly, after all they've done." He confided quietly to the Hobbit.

"You saw Boromir's soft side already, with Merry and Pippin, and now that he is sure of us, me and Sam. Faramir…" Frodo grinned. "We have read many of the same books, and he knows much of history, and the Elves. He speaks Elvish, too, and has been helping me with my pronunciation. He says Boromir knows it, too, but he won't speak it because he doesn't see the point. You lived in Rivendell, surely you read books, too. Oh, and Eowyn? He goes dizzy-eyed every time he sees her. So there you go."

Aragorn laughed, enjoying the sparkle in Frodo's eyes. "I'll take your advice to heart, Master Hobbit! I thank you!"

"And I thank you." Frodo said, hopping off the bed. "I promised the others that I'd call them when I was done talking to you, so let me get them. I'll be right back."

Aragorn dipped his head, still smiling. Soon, the patter of feet alerted him to their nearing presence. "Come in," he called before anyone could ask.

A genial Sam poked his head through the door before being pushed forward by Merry and Pippin, presenting a united front, holding their hands under their cloaks.

"We brought something for you, Strider." Pippin began, pulling his right hand out from

behind him with a flourish. He ignored the apple and pear that fell behind him. "Food!"

"I'll bet you didn't think of eating, did you? And what would we do if you were to faint halfway through the ceremony?" Merry said.

Aragorn thought he heard a faint laugh outside the corridor. It sounded like Boromir, but he wasn't sure. "Ah…yes, I didn't think of it, actually."

"Well, it was Sam's idea, to get breakfast for you." Pippin said.

Sam blushed as Aragorn smiled gratefully at him. "Well, it's not often a Gamgee can say as he knows a King."

"Not only a King, Sam, but the King!" Frodo piped up from behind him. "And furthermore, if you lot can get out of the way…?"

"Oh!" the three chorused, scrambling further into the room.

Grinning widely, Boromir and Faramir wheeled two trolleys laden with steaming food into the room. Gimli and Legolas followed bearing pitchers of fruit juice. Aragorn threw his head back and laughed. "And I'm to eat all?" he asked, teasing. Pippin pulled a long face.

"If you'd ruther we stand here and watch you, silently, while you eat?" Merry said, choking back a chuckle.

"I suppose that means you want to join me, hm? What are you waiting for? Let's eat; thanks to you I'm hungry." Aragorn said.

Everyone dug in with a good will, the food disappearing quickly. When everyone finished, Aragorn spoke. "Thank you, my friends," he said, lifting his goblet to them. "To a living Gondor, and a living Fellowship!"

Everyone clacked their goblets and cheered, quaffing their goblets. Immediately after, Gandalf rapped on the door, chuckling. "And I was just wondering where everybody was? Evidently you wanted to get a head start on the celebrations."

"Of course." Sam said dryly. "You know hobbits."

Gandalf grinned. "Of course," he echoed, nodding his head knowingly. "Of course. Well, it's nearly time, Aragorn. The people are beginning to gather."

"Good luck!" The hobbits chorused, filing out of the room. Frodo looked back a moment to smile at Aragorn. Gimli nodded his head. "Khazad!" he called his battlecry harshly. "The Dwarves welcome the advent of the King. The Race of Aule will be at your gates soon, Lord King, to rebuild this city, as I promised."

Aragorn nodded his head, the mantle of king back on his shoulders. "From the bottom of my heart, Lord Dwarf, I thank you."

Gimli nodded and left.

Stepping forward, Legolas touched his right hand to his heart before laying it on Aragorn's shoulder, clasping it. "You may have been born to the _Atani,_ Estel-nin, but you belong to the _Quendi_. When I came to a happy Rivendell after Lady Celebrian's departure and met the little Man-child, I understood why Elves have willingly given their lives for Men! The Elves claim you as theirs. They come; behold, they near even now, bringing their wisdom to Minas Tirith, to this City I am proud to call mine own, for I love her and those who so lovingly and freely bestow their allegiance to her! My brother," Here Legolas smiled, being well content. "This City will be reborn into a higher, greater glory under your rule; it will surpass the Gondor of old! The Age of Men begins with a beginning that will be spoken of to your children, and your children's children, and on until the breaking of this World!"

Aragorn had a stunned look on his face after listening to Legolas's impassioned speech.

"_Hannon lle, hirnin!" _he cried, grasping Legolas's hand. "I am Estel, and I am Aragorn! My heart belongs to both Elves and Men, and finds its fullness in the strength of both my kin, for without the trust of both Aragorn would not have strength to stand before you this day!" he said, including Boromir and Faramir in his words.

Legolas smiled. "You fit well, Elessar, among these proud, brave Men! Yes, the three of you will do well. Welcome to your heritage, my lords!" Legolas said to the three Men before nodding and leaving the room.

Gimli waited outside. "Well?" he asked.

"It was difficult not to tell him that she waits!" Legolas split into a grin almost boyish in its intensity. "He'll be so pleased!"

Still inside the room, Aragorn, Boromir and Faramir didn't hear the exchange taking place just outside the door.

Faramir spoke first. "Prince Legolas spoke well, my lord. I am afraid that I can craft no words to match his."

"You needn't say anything for your actions have already shown your worth. I spoke truly when I said my heart belongs both to Elves and Men, but I have a lot to learn, it seems, from my Gondorian kin."

Boromir broke in. "Aragorn. For Valar's sake, Man, you were raised among the Elves. Even if you are eighty-seven, childhood learning dies hard. Rest easy, Gondor will not reject you for being an Elf-friend! She already loves you; can you not see the City in bloom again? The White Tree blossoms; it heralds better days, days we've dreamed of! We're not planning on deserting you! Set yourself at ease; I haven't seen you this tense since Gandalf died…Or… whatever it is that he did." He finished awkwardly.

Aragorn stared at Boromir, his tense body posture slowly easing as he sat down in a chair, his hands on his knees. "I am sorry." He said finally, the words coming out soft. "Truthfully I don't know what to do with myself. This is…It was…I never really prepared myself for this. Before the Council of Elrond it was a discarded dream, a mere possibility. After it there was no time to think. And…I always saw Arwen beside me."

From behind the chair, Faramir squeezed Aragorn's shoulder. "We are here, Aragorn. As my brother said, we will not desert you. We cannot claim to be Evenstars, but did not the Prince say that the Elves come near, Aragorn? Might she not be amongst them?"

"I do not know, but I thank you, my cousins." Standing up, Aragorn bowed his head to them. "But until this coronation is over I'm going to be nervous and rather unpleasant to be around. I'll remember your words," he said, meeting Boromir's gaze. "and hope by tomorrow I'll not be so tense anymore. Right now I can do no more."

Though Boromir still looked faintly annoyed, Faramir nodded. "We understand."

"Oh, Faramir, wait! Who's the Prince of Ithilien?"

"That position fell into disuse after the last Prince ill-led two advances there and the Orcs established dominance. My father assimilated that position into his duties, though he never visited that area."

"Would you like to take that position? I thought it might perhaps help you if you were able to visit there regularly."

A slow smile crossed Faramir's face. "Yesss, I'd like that!"

"Good! Then to the stadium; I'll be out presently.

* * *

This is the next to last chapter!


	24. Chapter 24

Arwen felt herself growing increasingly nervous with every step toward the Last Level.

_What if he didn't want her? What if he thought she had gone to Valimar?_

Instinctively, Aragorn tensed as he looked out on the entire upper level, filled to brim with people watching the ceremony. There were so many, and all were gathered because of him!...

_Sixty-seven years, _Arwen realized. _Sixty-seven years since he first called me 'Tinuviel,' in the woods so long ago._

Suddenly Arwen was frightened, jealous of time lost from Aragorn. As an Elf they seemed as naught, but to a mortal they were long, long years, seasons of a Man's life.

_How much time did she have with him?_

The procession began. All Aragorn could feel as he walked up the steps to meet Boromir and Faramir was an overwhelming desire for it to end; this ceaseless preparing, endless ceremony. Of course he would do his best for this his city. The City of the Princes of Numenor—how could he not?

Guided by Glorfindel, Elrond and Arwen slipped in just as Aragorn turned his back toward them, ascending the stairs to a podium where Gandalf, Boromir, and a man so like to Boromir in appearance Arwen knew him to be Boromir's brother. Elrond beside her felt the sadness lift from his heart as he regarded Aragorn and the two brothers. The light of Numenor shone faint but pure from the three men, the three kings, met together with Gandalf. Boromir stepped forward, as was his right. "People of Gondor! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dunedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Numenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell here?" The people answered "Yea," in one accord. Boromir grinned. "My friends, I have seen him, and he is good!"

Then the Ringbearer, for so it was, brought Earnur's Crown forward. Both Elrond and Arwen studied the slender, still weak figure as it stepped forward, fascinated as the sunlight struck the weary face and made it glow with an intensity that only increased as Frodo reached the topmost stair. Gandalf, his face solemn, took the winged Crown from Frodo and lifted it high for all the People to see. "This Crown has lain in the shadows of Rath Dinen since long before any here were born. As the years passed and the Stewards waited in vain for the return of the King, the People's hope faded, and the Golden Age of Gondor and Arnor crumbled into dust. Now I return that hope to you. Here come the days of the King. May they be blessed!" Handing the crown to Faramir, Gandalf bowed to Aragorn and moved to the side. The crown flashed in the sunlight as Faramir held it high before settling it onto Aragorn's head.

Arwen flushed, ducking behind the banner she had made before Aragorn could catch sight of her, but in that moment she saw him as she knew him to be – a king, The King reclaimed by Gondor. With his heritage revealed, Arwen saw clearly the light of Numenor shining from him, outshining even that of the two royal Men standing beside him. He sang, then, the words of his ancestor Elendil sounding as glorious as they did when Elendil was not just legend but flesh and blood standing where Aragorn stood now.

As he sang, he walked, tread lightly down the stairs. Arwen felt her heart beat more quickly as he neared. She could Sense him easily now, since he no longer needed to hide his Spirit.

The Men and Women of Gondor bowed as Elessar passed through them, nodding at the lords and friends who had so succored him in the Ring War. Eomer-king, first, his brooding face shaded by his corn-colored hair as he bowed. Eowyn, standing next to Eomer, smiled as she bowed, brimful of happiness. Aragorn heard Gimli chuckle as he bowed, the magnitude of this long-awaited day too much for him to hold without doing _something_, else he'd burst.

Arwen could Sense Aragorn's troubled spirit as he came to Legolas, standing before the banner behind which Arwen and Elrond waited with bated breath. Lasgalen waited, a half-smile playing about his lips. In the Elven way, Aragorn and Legolas clasped each others shoulders, as brothers. Arwen could hear Aragorn's sigh as he spoke, and her heart leapt into her throat as a voice, familiar and dear, spoke brief words of thanks. Legolas gave way to a smile, looking out of the corner of his eyes, and moved aside. For a moment Aragorn thought that Legolas meant the Elven-made banner that billowed against his back. It too moved aside, and Aragorn then saw Elrond. "_Lord E—"_

The words died abruptly in his throat as Aragorn felt the air heave from his lungs.

_Arwen… _He stared, uncomprehending that she, that the Evenstar was there. The Lord of Rivendell nudged his daughter forward. "Go to him," he whispered.

Unconsciously Aragorn reached for the Evenstar round his throat, watching as a single tear slipped down Arwen's cheek. With a sharp intake of breath, he launched himself at her, meeting her lips in a passionate kiss, the spell broken. Pulling apart, he brushed his hands up her neck, wondering again at the egg-shell delicacy and beauty he found there, looking deeply into her eyes as she drew a finger down his jawline, reveling in the strength she found there.

Only Legolas' soft tugging brought them to the awareness that all the people were clapping and cheering, Boromir's jubilant laugh roaring over the din. Laughing, they turned to face the crowd, walking together to the hobbits, cheering with the best of them. Only Frodo stood silent, his beautiful face watching Aragorn and Arwen with wistful happiness in his eyes. The noise of the crowds again dimmed as Arwen met Frodo's eyes, telling him that she knew. She understood. With Aragorn she knelt at the four brave Hobbits' feet. Rising, she reached for a white amulet she wore around her neck.

"When the memory of the fear and darkness troubles you," she said, "this will bring you aid."

"I thank you." he answered simply. Aragorn, his arm round her waist, pulled her gently closer to him.

"Frodo." she said, her voice suddenly unleashing the power of the Eldar. "When the Ship comes there will be an extra place, empty of whatever abilities the Valar saw fit to give Arwen Undomiel. My choice is made, the choice of Luthien, and I stay here. Go ye in my stead, for a time, and find peace there, till all your troubles have passed away."

Frodo bowed, the weight of such a gift not lost upon him, waiting until the Queen bid him rise. "Peredhil," she said, "be at peace."

"Indeed." Aragorn said. "No greater gift have I to give. Know that you all are always welcome in Gondor. You are _Perian, _and we will not forget the deeds you have done, not until Gondor has faded into the sands of time."

Frodo shook his head. "In the end I undertook the quest because of love, and for that I will not accept praise." His words came thick. "I am content." He finished dismissively. The King and Queen bowed, turning back up the stairs to greet a widely grinning Boromir, Faramir having long since deserted the platform to join Eowyn, though he bowed to the Queen.

"I have much to learn." She murmured to Aragorn.

"As do I. Boromir and Faramir are invaluable," he answered, stressing the last word as they met Boromir by the door.

"Your Majesty!" Boromir said. "It gives me very great pleasure to welcome you to Gondor."

"I thank you, _hirnin!_ I look forward to learning more of it."

Aragorn heaved a mock-stern sigh. "Well then, Boromir, if you are done romancing my betrothed?..."

Boromir looked at Aragorn, rather speechless at hearing Aragorn crack jokes after his stern mood of the dawn.

"It's all right, Boromir. All is well, now." Aragorn reassured. "Aren't they waiting for us at the Great Hall?"

……

_Late that evening…_

"Speak for yourself, Boromir." Aragorn said, sharing a flushed glance with Arwen. "We're betrothed, they're betrothed," he said, nodding at Faramir and Eowyn, blushing whenever their fingers brushed against each other. Finally Faramir took her hand and held it in his own. "Where's your lady?"

"My lady?" Boromir repeated, suddenly sober. "I have met many, but not one in that way." He said, nodding to Arwen. "There was never time, really, to sit with one."

Taking advantage of the sort of camaraderie that had sprung up between her and Boromir, Faramir, and Eowyn, she smiled at him.

"There are many new Women in the City." She offered, blushing a bit at the idea of matchmaking.

Boromir looked drolly at her, unsure of her meaning. "Indeed there are!"

He heard Aragorn stifling a snort of laughter. Faramir and Eowyn looked up, having come to a lull in their conversation. Arwen inclined her head at him.

"Well?" Aragorn asked.

"Well indeed!" Boromir thought, a small smile stealing across his features. "There will come a time, I suppose, when I will present someone to these here at the table and name her my betrothed, but that won't be for a while yet." He said.

"Fair enough!" Faramir said, coming to his brother's rescue. "Just don't take too long!"

_"Time enough," _Boromir thought. _"Time enough for that later, once the City is rebuilt. Once these four have their weddings. Once enough time is passed, a Woman will sit by the hearth, children playing at her feet, and I will gather them into my arms and call them mine…_

_Enter into your heritage, and do not be afraid with any amazement!_

He offered the silent prayer for those sitting here beside him, and for those that would sit here in the years to come, and for those that would come when the ground had received all present here into its living hands, free of the taint of evil, whole and fresh again…

It had been a hard road, but a worthy one, traveled from beginning to exhilarating end...

_Fin_

Wow. It's done. I can't believe that I posted the final chapter after more than a year of writing and editing! Thank you, everyone, for reading, and a thousand thanks to Erestor and szepilona.

I began posting a new story that you may be interested in; it's another Boromir lives story but it is far more complex than this one, and encompasses the time from shortly before Boromir leaves for Rivendell (with his wife, incidentally) until around Aragorn's coronation. Or at least, that's what it looks like so far. You can find it under my profile.


End file.
